


The Fall Season

by Nanners (nanjcsy)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Cannibalism, Clowns, Dark Comedy, Gregor is his own warning, Happy halloween, Horror, Kidnapping, Mild Gore, Multi, Nannerverse, Not going to be Cannon in any way really, Ramsay is his own warning, Revenge, Small town secrets, Stalking, Torture, Unreliable Narrator, Werewolves, Zombies, thramsay light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 65
Words: 138,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/Nanners
Summary: This is my Halloween story, told through out the season in snippets. It is several dark tales, some comedic, some chilling and some meant to make you avert your eyes. A town celebrates the holiday and several characters run into adventures that may or may not cross others on the dark twisted pathways of this town.





	1. Pumpkin Spice

The town was covered in brilliant foliage, slowly dying while offering a final brilliant show of orange, yellow and red.

Half the town was still made of stone. Cobblestone walkways and small bridges. A few buildings, small museums, the library and a few mansion size homes were also made of stone, ivy climbing them whenever possible as if to sneak in the windows and strangle all inside. More of the town was brick from the quaint streets and alleyways, restaurants, laundromats and doctor offices with apartments above them.

Some of the town was just a small bit of homes and lawns that tried to outdo each other in every thing. Lawns with perfect grass and whimsical flower gardens. Backyards full of tree houses, pools or jungle gyms.  The convenience stores, gas stations and schools that were nestled in this area were just as creatively painful. Gas stations had everything from small tours of their wind chime collections to offering every child a water bottle and a health snack.

Each school looked less like a school with each improvement done. The grammar school looked like an over sized dairy barn where one expected stalls rather than desks. When they proposed during a meeting to change their school bell to sound like cowbells, even the parents protested. The middle school looked like a green house, their message was all about solar power and going green. They taught the students to cook their own lunches and stopped using anything they couldn't recycle. The upper grades were nestled within what looked like an amazing Gothic historical home which was so remodeled so many times to look more authentic that it was anything but.

 

The small bit of woods with man crafted paths that during the day is prey to hikers, joggers and dirt bikes as well as students on field trips, at night is home to the homeless and play area of bored teenagers looking to party. Then there is the wharf where the sea that was so inviting all summer is now beginning to seem sly and sluggish as if angry that it's idolizers have abandoned it. An outside mall offers everything from banking to jewelry and beauty shops, all of the store fronts looking as if they were colorful small cottages.

Its a lovely small town that has such a pretty face. It was just out of the way and small enough for tourists to breeze through without staying very long. It was a town where those born to it tend to never leave for long. Or at all. One thing about the small town was it loved its community and tried to force this goodwill on all its citizens. The town tended to go a little crazy during holidays. Every holiday had a parade, even minor ones and the town is covered in decoration. 

As soon as the first leaf falls, the entire town suddenly galvanizes into action. Decorative haystacks, perfect carved pumpkins and scarecrows loomed from every direction. Skeletons, ghosts and cobwebs with large furry spiders along with green witches riding brooms adorned all school windows and doors. Store display windows each have award worthy murals. Every place in town that offered food or drink suddenly has the flavors of pumpkin spice and apple cider.

The town has erected several hot cider stands as if the citizens might die without passing a corner without it. And every coffee shop liberally infuses pumpkin spice into every form of coffee, tea or pastry upon its customers. Even restaurants begin to offer pumpkin stuffed food and apple cider menus before the regular ones. Hayrides, scary tales told during bonfires, hay and corn mazes are all set up.Haunted houses from mild school run fare to the creative ones meant to send teenagers screaming, countless themed dances, scary movies in the parks and of course, the parade and a small fair.

 

And like every town it had its secrets, it's rot under the prettiness of the deceptive dying leaves. The air chills, the nights come earlier and the lines between living and dead, reality and fantasy seem to blur for a small time. If the town bleeds a little, if bad or unexplainable things happen during the fall, it seems expected and accepted. Which is why when Gregor died with the hated taste of pumpkin spice on his tongue, it bothered him only dimly. Figures his stupid brother would mess up his last damned coffee in life, was the man's last thought.

 

 

 


	2. Soaring Dead Frogs

"Oh shit, oh shit, is he dead? Fuck, man, is he dead? He's gotta be after that! Shit, shit!"

Without taking her eyes off the giant that just fell from the sky, Shireen slapped a hand over Rickon's mouth. Robin took two small, almost tiptoeing steps towards the smoking, grayish body. "I should check his pulse, see if he is alive. I need to touch him. I am going to do it." Shireen sighed at that dreamy sleepy sound Robin gets sometimes and snapped,

"Don't you dare! This isn't like when we got suspended for stealing the dead dissecting frogs at school! We aren't messing with any dead humans! I mean it, Robin! We already called for the ambulance, all we can do is wait here to tell them what we saw." This only seemed to bring a crooked smile to his lips and Robin continued to creep closer to the dead man.

Shireen shrieked as Rickon licked her hand vigorously. She ripped her hand off his mouth to frantically rub it on her jeans. "So gross! Ugh! What is wrong with you two? Why am I friends with you two freaks?" Rickon went forward just a bit, he didn't have an urge to touch the giant, he just wanted to take pictures. Shireen swiped his phone from him, disgusted. "You jerk! Think of his family, seeing this posted on line! Don't you have any moral compass in there at all?"

Rickon gave her a truly unrepentant smile and shook his head. "I have a regular compass so I can run away when I need to. I leave all that moral shit to my family to worry about. I just go with the fun life, thanks. That's why you hang with us, we push your little comfy limits. Give me my phone back! Dammit, here comes the ambulance, they won't let me take any pictures now!"

It was Shireen that spoke to the authorities that came to question them. Robin was transfixed with watching the removal of the dead giant and Rickon was still sullen over the loss of a good picture. They were given apple cider and apple donuts then driven to their homes in a police car.

When Robin was taken to his house, he didn't hang around while the officer explained to his mother why he was so late. Robin didn't feel like dealing with the clinging momster and locked himself in his room. He laid on his bed and thought about the dead body with a dreamy look on his face. Even when his mother banged and rattled at his door, wailing like a banshee, Robin just stared out at the window at the rising, bloating moon. 

Shireen's parents weren't home and the officer said he would call them. She didn't care and didn't bother to explain that her parents won't really care either. The authorities won't make it past a voice mail anyway. Her father only cared about his job and his mistress. All her mother cared about was trying to shut down abortion clinics.  Oh, and their stupid cult, they cared about that plenty, but Shireen didn't like to think about that. She hoped that the large man had a loving family that would be sad and miss him. 

Rickon had to tolerate his father's hand on his shoulder and his mother's squawking worry. They hugged him over and over and talked to him as if he were sexually assaulted or something. Finally, he managed to get away only to find himself nearly attacked by his siblings who wanted to hear all about it. That was better and he exaggerated the hell out of it. Rickon sat with Bran and they played a shooter game. The whole time, Rickon's mind wandered. He kept seeing that huge man just plummet down and for a brief second he had been terrified. He thought he was about to die under this mountainous man.

They had been scared shitless for a minute and swearing brought Shireen to mind. Which brought back the memories of the dead frog prank. Robin had swiped a bunch of the frogs from the science lab and Shireen had brought a ton of small outfits and accessories. "I can't get it through my father's head that I am too old for the stupid dolls. So we can at least get some use of it!" Rickon made the small gliders, parachutes and set up the small remote control cars while the other two had wrestled the clothing on the cold reptiles.

He started giggling at the image in his head. How everyone at school reacted when the dressed frogs came parachuting and hand-gliding from the second floor, other frogs went speeding across the hallways in their snappy race cars. It had been worth the suspension and the school mandated therapy for the three of them. Then Rickon got an image of them dressing up the dead giant as a paratrooper,sailing him like they did the frogs and that sent him into laughter that made his brother get annoyed and hit him.

 

Robb watched Ramsay with disgust from the corner of his eye and his lips set into a grim line. "Are you really texting that crazy doctor? I mean, it's already been what, almost a half hour? You know damned right well that Dr. Qyburn is full blown crazy? Your father gets paid the same as my father nearly, you can't be that fucking hard up for the cash that nuts offers! What is he giving you for this one? You know, the worst part is, I get it when it's strangers, maybe. But you know the last two and we both knew not only Gregor but we know his whole fucked up family. Not personally, maybe, but they have worked for both our families. How do we tell his wife and brother that we lost someone of Gregor's size, huh?"

Ramsay gave his most hated work and school partner a brilliant, loving smile. "How do we tell them? By lying, sweet idiot. Don't act like you haven't done it a thousand times before with me. I have taught you how to lie quite well and you know it. Stop acting so indignant, you aren't about to stop me or turn me in, so just skip this part of your tormented drama of fake family honor. It gets repetitive and boring. And I don't care about any money, I actually think the madman is onto something. I truly do. And he doesn't pay me in cash for the bodies. I am relying on discreet medical services when needed. It's nice knowing that Qyburn will be there for me when it's needed." Robb shivered, he didn't want to know what kind of favor a sadist asked of a madman. 

Qyburn was waiting when the young medical students pulled the ambulance into the shadowy parking lot near a hidden entrance. 

 

After they left the gray corpse with the creepy doctor, the two continued their harassment of each other as they completed their shift. They argued over two mild heart attacks, a false alarm and shouted at each other nose to nose over a shattered femur. Only after they had changed into regular clothes and were heading into the parking lot towards their separate cars and worlds, did they turn cordial. Well, as cordial as they could manage.

"Taking Jeyne to the fair tonight?" "Yep, you bringing Theon to the fair? And the boys?" "Course. Boys and Theon. What are you all doing after? We are hitting the haunted house, that new one." "Theon hates haunted houses, so does Jeyne." "I know. That's the fun of it." "Prick. No, we will skip the haunted house. See you later, Ramsay." "Pussy. Don't have a car accident on the way home, buddy." "You plan on knocking my car off the road?" "Nope. Don't want to have to deal with a whole new respectable friend that daddy picks to hold my hand. Funny in a way, if you think of it. Our fathers have forced us on the same paths, same classes, same work, hell, we are practically engaged to each other! And yet, we never got along, not once have we ever been friends or tried to be." "Our fathers aren't really friends either if you look close enough, Ramsay. It isn't a personal thing with them or us, it's just what we have to do to survive." "Hmm. True enough, I guess. Be careful out there, Robb. Just remember, it's fall, almost Halloween, the strangest things happen around here about now." "Wipe that grin off your face, asshole. We are too old for you to scare me with your damned horror shit. Save it for poor Theon." "Oh, I do, trust me. I do."  

 

 


	3. Cleanest Slaughter House

Sandor finished another beer as he pulled into the driveway of his home. It was the home he was born into and somehow never managed to leave. A sanctuary and a prison all in one both for himself and for his sister in law. He suspected it might be the same for Gregor but he was never quite brave enough to ask. In fact, he never asked his sister in law either, but then again, he didn't have to. He was there to see the answer for himself.

Each wooden step of the porch sagged and creaked under his weight but still held. Entering the house, Sandor marveled at how clean and orderly it always looked no matter what violence may have happened inside these walls. Once, in the past, this place might have been full of shattering glass, screams and blood sprayed so thick the stink of copper hung everywhere but today it was all a bad memory hidden under the sanitized surface. They have spent their lives learning how to create then clean up violence, sort of a family trait perhaps.  It had always been that way even when Sandor was a child and his parents still lived. Sandor went into the kitchen to find two crystal glasses sitting on the kitchen table along with Gregor's best bottle of scotch.

Automatically, Sandor grumbled out a warning to the woman sitting stiffly at the table, staring at the bottle. "Unless Gregor told you to put that there, you'd best put it back. You don't need another reason for him to break a bone, do you?" With a quick smile, almost not there at all then the usual stoic face he has known for years, Unella spoke. "I called you an hour ago and told you Gregor was dead. That is what the officer said at the door, I have his card and the number of the morgue. I haven't called yet, I waited for you. If you already forgot, maybe you have drank enough. I'll put away the scotch, I don't really want it anyway."

Sandor shook his head fast and then muttered, "Guess I didn't believe it at first. In fact, until I see the body I won't probably get over it. I mean, were they truly sure, it was a positive identification?" Unella nodded and picked up the glasses in slightly shaking hands as Sandor sat down and grabbed the bottle of scotch after all. "Yes, they are sure and we can go to the morgue and see him for ourselves." "I had just brought him his damned coffee and headed towards the museum to trim the bushes. Fuck." Sandor opened the scotch and gulped straight from the bottle. "I'm the new owner of the Clegane landscaping business and this house. We have to cremate him, I want him truly fucking gone. How did it happen? A freak accident?"

"Yes. The officer said Gregor was on top of Roose Bolton's house, he was trying to clear off the leaves on the roof. There was some electrical sudden blow out that caught him somehow. He fell onto the street right in front of some kids, I guess. So he was electrocuted then fell off a three story house onto the pavement. Even Gregor can't survive that." Sandor took one more gulp from the bottle and held it out towards Unella. "No thank you. I don't want anything of his, I think." Sandor put away the scotch as Unella put away the clean glasses. "You will be free. Will you stay here with me and this house or are you going to take off?"

Unella stared hard at Sandor and her words were so bitter they caused him to wince. "And go where? To do what exactly?" Sandor shrugged then grumbled out some hope the best he could. "You could get your high school diploma. Take those night classes or use the computer. We can afford it. My brother was a cheap bastard and he hoarded way more than we saw. It's all ours now, yours too, not just mine. You can get your degree, get a job or go to college, I don't care. We can get rid of everything in here and get new shit." Twisting her hands together before squaring her shoulders, Unella sharply sucked in a breath then released it. "I am a widow. I am free of him, so are you. Let's go see him, burn him to ashes then clean this place of his entire memory."

Sandor guided Unella out the door and into the truck so they could head to the morgue and lay eyes on a dead monster. Unella stared around at the leaves swirling in the fall wind and softly said, "It was like this, so pretty, so nice out the day that my world just ended. It is fitting that it should begin again on the same kind of day." Saying nothing, Sandor started to drive down the winding dirt road towards the center of the town. Gregor had always been violent, got it from their parents and enhanced it tenfold. He was really starting to up his game by the time he was ten and held Sandor's face onto their stove for touching his damned toys. And Sandor was only six but he already understood to lie to the authorities and the doctors. Two surgeries, months of hellish pain, half a face looking like a melted candle, half an ear gone but Sandor got the message and never dared to cross his brother again. At least not in any way that Gregor could actually detect.

When Gregor was sixteen, he was already known as someone to watch the hell out for. He was the biggest bully of the high school, not even the senior class boys messed with him. Their father was unable to beat him anymore, their mother had no hold on him either. Unella was in his class at school and something about the girl just set Gregor off. She refused to allow him to cheat off a test and no one told Gregor no. His temper was unable to wait and take his revenge in a way that wouldn't get him caught. Unella had barely finished her last class of the day before he attacked her. The gym teacher was horrified to walk into the girls locker room and find the most terrifying student in the school in full bloody revenge mode. Police and an ambulance were hailed quickly. It took two officers to get Gregor away from his victim.

Sandor remembers huddling in the doorway, listening to the police and those rich men talking to his parents. "The girl doesn't wish to press charges but it won't matter this time. We have a big problem here, Mr. and Mrs. Clegane. The work, the non traditional work beyond landscaping that you do for us, it gives you some privilege and protection but we cannot allow this to stand without a good solution. It's an old fashioned town we have here, a small gossiping one, Mr. Clegane. You understand that. The girl was a ward of the local church. She was raped, beaten and has several broken ribs, one dislocated hip, a broken nose and both hands have fractures. Now the doctors just finished her surgery and announced the girl is pregnant. The church is angry and mortified to take her back in. I have no foster family for our social workers to work with that will take in a sixteen year old pregnant rape victim. Gregor might have to do time in jail to appease our town if Unella is shipped off to a city orphanage to give birth to a rapist's baby."

It had taken the fancy men, Roose and Ned plus Gregor's parents to convince Gregor to do the right thing. In the end, it was Ned Stark's rifle in the back that forced Gregor to agree. It took Roose and his son to drag Unella to the alter. Broken bones or not, Unella put up one hell of a fight before she gave in. It didn't take Unella long to learn to be like Sandor, to just do as Gregor wants, never anger him on purpose. Gregor ended up punching Unella in stomach when she vomited on him when he raped her during her morning sickness. He hit her as hard as he could and she lost the baby two months into their marriage. By the time they were married a full year, Unella was incapable of having a child anymore. This was a dark but welcome relief to all of them. The mere thought of Gregor being around a crying baby was chilling.

Sandor grimly always was proud of the fact that he managed to survive his brother, something his parents couldn't do. Unella managed to survive Gregor. Something few men, never mind women had been able to do. And now they have truly managed to survive the nightmare and see the other side. Sandor suddenly felt something that was perhaps a ray of hope for his future. "Hell, let's celebrate! I'm grabbing us some pumpkin spice coffees on our way to see Gregor. Let's sip the drink he hated most while we stare at his fucking corpse!"

An hour later they were still holding the drinks, now cold and unwanted. They got no answers at the morgue except that Gregor wasn't there and the hospital main desk wasn't anymore forthcoming. Finally, they were directed to speak with a Doctor Qyburn whose office was difficult to locate. When they finally found the office, it was locked and dark. "Great. Even dead the fucker is causing us problems." Sandor was pissed as they headed home, planning to call the doctor first thing in the morning. "Maybe Gregor decided to be an organ donor and that doctor isn't done taking the organs needed?" Unella offered that hope and sort of liked the idea of Gregor's body being taken apart, emptied out. It made her give a rare smile out into the fall night.


	4. Werewolves Howling

A howl pierced through the air, the sudden sound defeating the rustling leaves and the nearby fairground music. It was a joyous, freeing sound, the sound of a wolf on the hunt. 

The group of young men nearby responded by howling back, except for one slighter male who just shivered and held his ears shut. A young man built like a brick wall  finished his howling and gave a wide wild grin to his pack. Damon stretched one last time, so happy to be out of uniform and back among his partying peers. He ran forward and leaped upon Ramsay as Theon threw himself into Alyn to avoid being squashed. This effort was foiled when Damon curled Ramsay into his armpit and his other large arm encased Alyn.

Theon was stuck and his sneakers skidded as he tried to avoid the human sandwich being formed and pressed. His only consolation was to watch Damon somehow ensnare Skinner too. Skinner's resistance caused Damon to pull harder and the thin man found himself whacking hard into Theon's own bony frame. Since Ramsay hasn't allowed Theon to bathe in a month or so, Skinner was treated to a smell strong enough to taste. "Ugh, lemme go! Ramsay, let the fucking kid take a shower, I am fucking dying! Damon, lemme go! I can't breathe!"

Damon laughed and released them all, then he shoved Ramsay. "So glad to get the fuck out of that uniform today! All fucking day, calls about a wolf of all things. As if wolves still were around here? Since I became the animal control officer, I have seen maybe three coy dogs in the area. Not a single fucking wolf. No one has and the hunters around here would've mentioned seeing friggin wolves. But here's the freaky thing, guys...something is tearing shit up around here. For real, just this week three dogs and several cats plus a shitload of wild life all ripped to shreds. Even have some witnesses. Sansa Stark and Joff Baratheon both swear they saw a wolf, that it tried to attack them while they were hiking in the woods. Got a call last week from that old Tyrell biddy saying that she saw it on her damned lawn. Whatever it was took a humongous shit on that pretty lawn. I sent a sample of it to the animal clinic and it's definitely canine but they didn't know what kind. So I have to spend tomorrow trying to hunt this fucking canine down. Probably going to be some wolf hybrid needing a bullet between it's eyes. I'm thinking of offering a reward to the local hunters if they can catch it. I need this issue gone by Halloween night. Can you imagine little trick or treaters getting eaten by some killer canine?"

Alyn narrowed his eyes and nudged Damon with his elbow. "Me an' Skinner will go hunting for it. How much are you offering for a reward? Ramsay, you're the best hunter, you'll have to come." Ramsay grinned and shrugged. "Let's see if Damon finds it first, if not we can go for a hunt. But...what if it's a werewolf?" His eyes glowed as Theon cringed and the others all got the same look. Skinner leaned closer and nodded solemnly. "It could be. We all know strange shit happens around here in the fall. I mean, what else rips apart domestic animals and wild ones alike? Has to be a werewolf. We will need silver bullets because if we fuck with one of those, we'd better be prepared." Damon began to go into full and colorful detail of how a werewolf would kill a human and Theon clapped his hands on his ears again. They all laughed and Ramsay hugged the scared boy playfully. "Don't worry, Reek! I won't let any werewolf eat you up. You are too weak for a hunt, you'll stay home nice and safe, locked in."  Damon chuckled and led the way through the snaked cables behind the trailers that were part of the fair to sneak past the ticket booths.

Hard to believe that cringing boy next to Ramsay was once the most arrogant cocky but tough shit in school. In the lower grades he was a class clown, then Theon transitioned to a mouthy douche bag who picked fights. Even if he was beaten down, he always got back up. No matter how many times, until Ramsay Bolton had been kicked out of his private school. Ramsay joined Damon and Theon's senior year class of high school and that was the beginning of the end of Theon. It took all year of Ramsay going between charming and sadistic before he fully lured Theon to him.

By graduation, Theon was not only dating Ramsay but already starting to do his bidding. By summer Ramsay had convinced Theon to move out of his abusive home and live with him with Roose. As soon as Theon stepped into Ramsay's trap he was caught and subsequently broke. It took time and Damon himself even got to give Theon some licks with his whip as well as hunt him down whenever the stupid kid tried to escape. Now after five years, Theon has morphed into this Reek pet that Ramsay wanted. Damon felt bad for Theon but he was more impressed by Ramsay.

They broke out into the smells of cotton candy, popcorn, bright gaudy lights and spooky fun music booming from speakers hanging on the rides. Screams fading then loomed as rides swung humans around without a mechanical care. It took Skinner and Alyn only five minutes to steal enough tickets from others for them all to go on the rides. Ramsay watched Theon's face to see what scared him the most then he laughed as Theon sobbed while getting in line for the highest, fastest ride there. Damon kept howling every time the ride swung him up to face the moon. Alyn and Skinner would do the same but Ramsay was too busy enjoying Theon's begging for the ride to end.

Sansa shivered and glared over towards where Damon and his buddies were howling. "Assholes. Fucking assholes. I should fucking-" Rolling her eyes, Sansa put a hand on Joff's arm as he sputtered all sorts of threats. "Ignore them, Joff. Don't let them upset our date, okay? Here come Margeary and Loras." Joff snarled and pinched Sansa's hand hard in his own until it bruised. "Don't fucking tell me what to do. I hate that. You know I hate that, why do you always want to upset me? And don't act like the wonder twins are our friends. We are only lumped together by our parents and social class. Don't expect me to be happy about sharing my private time with them." "I'm sorry, Joff. Please, don't hurt me, don't be upset. We can break off from the early and do whatever we want."

It was getting harder and harder for Sansa to want to be with Joff. He had once swept her off her feet, Sansa had been so impressed with him but slowly started to see what he was really like. Joff was petty, a mommy's boy and liked to cause others hurt and humiliation. His own girlfriend was certainly included in that. Sansa has been dating Joff since they became freshman in high school. Now this was their last year of school and Sansa hopes after graduation she can break up with him. A reason will be there by then, Sansa applied to colleges far away deliberately. To have a good enough excuse for Joff and his mother as to why she has to break off a sort of unspoken agreement for engagement. Joff belittles her and hits her and Sansa pretends he doesn't and it has become tiring.

As the twins started to come towards them and Joff yanked Sansa closer, she had an urge to rip them all to shreds. As if her manicured nails and bleached teeth could destroy them, her jaw started to grind as if already chewing flesh. Her smile was nearly genuine as she greeted the twins and asked what everyone would like to do first. Sansa saw her brothers ahead of them, wandering the games and waved to them.

Robb and Jon waved back to Sansa as they roamed among the milling teens trying to impress dates with cheap prizes. Sam and Gilly have already managed to wipe out one booth of consolation prizes. Or rather, Sam got the consolation prizes, Gilly won him a large panda bear but they pretended that he won it for her. Ygritte won her own prizes and Jeyne waited for Robb to win her something silently as always. Robb smiled at his pretty, compliant girlfriend and quickly played a dart game to give her a stuffed oversize cheap velvet heart pillow. Their relationship was as arranged as his partnership with Ramsay. Her father was the surgeon at the hospital that Robb was trying to train under. And Jeyne's mother wanted to be equals with Cat Stark in the worst way. No one asked Jeyne, she was just told of her new boyfriend, soon to be fiancé.

Jeyne pointed toward the bumper cars and spent the next few minutes aggressively using the car to express her feelings. Ygritte and Gilly grew just as fierce and the men quickly found themselves mercilessly pummeled. Robb and Jon looked up at loud laughter to see Arya and her buddies all pointing and laughing. They took several pictures while the brothers cursed and hid their faces. Arya, Hot Pie, Gendry and Lommy had no idea that they were about ten minutes from making the worst choices of their lives.

 


	5. Guts

Rickon had spent an hour or so grumbling at his father then outright arguing with his mother. Finally, Bran intervened, saving his little brother from being grounded for the rest of the fall. "Come on, help me out with this stuff, Rickon! I have all these pumpkins to finish carving, help me." Rickon complained to Bran while they pulled the seeds and guts out of five large pumpkins. "I can go to the movie in the park tomorrow night and I can go trick or treating with my friends when it's gonna be dark but I can't go to the fair! Not unless an adult takes me, how stupid is that? I mean, she says, oh its on the other side of town as if I don't walk there all the time during the day!"

Bran didn't try to explain parental logic to Rickon. Instead he shrugged and gestured to his wheelchair. "Hey, I'd take you if they'd let me. I'm older than Arya by two years and our parents treat me like I'm in kindergarten. As if a wheelchair makes me need a babysitter or something. Anyway, help me with these then I have something cool for us to do." Rickon felt ashamed for complaining so much. Last year Bran had a rock climbing accident and became paralyzed from the waist down. It changed him in some ways but it changed their parents even more. 

Quietly, so their parents wouldn't hear, Bran and Rickon slipped out of the garage after finishing their five pumpkins. Bran silently rolled on the carefully tended pathways into the backyard where he hid more pumpkins along with some small timer explosives he created. The brothers loaded the items on Bran and the basket on the back of his chair. They quickly fled the home and headed down the darkened streets towards Bran's intended targets.

 

Petyr and Varys walked side by side slowly around the fair, greeting others and sipping hot cider. They both despised the smell and taste of both hot cider and anything pumpkin. It did not show on their faces. Even as they warmly spoke to parents, they thought of how much they hated them and their children. This also did not show.  Both principals seemed eager to walk among their fellow citizens and to enjoy the fair, their beloved fall. Varys would have preferred the sand and Petyr would love to live in a bright city but they endured. Petyr was the principal of the high school and Varys was the principal of the middle school.

Of course, they had their fingers in many other ventures through out the town and nearby areas. Some in the town might have been surprised to find out how much of the town was truly owned by one of the two con artists. Both men are also on the town council and are hoping to compete against each other for mayor in a few years. It wasn't that Petyr and Varys weren't friends, they truly were. Simply because they felt like equals and they have spent years challenging each other to climb higher, higher. Now they were involved in so many different schemes all at once, if one went down, so would the other.

They lived next door to each other, they drove fancy cars and continually tried to out dress each other. There was a big joke in town about how the two school principals dressed better than the mayor did. "This place is giving me a headache. Look, all my worst students from the past and present milling in the same location. How depressing." Varys gave Petyr a small pat on his arm then smirked. "Just wait until the future generation comes to you. This group I have is a doozy this year. Horrible." "I honestly cannot tell sometimes what is worse. The kids or their parents." "Oh, this year it is the parents for me, Petyr. Parents I can't reach no matter what the problem is, a mother that is clearly insane and parents that are so dulled by kids that they don't care what their child does anymore."

Arya and her little gang nearly smashed through them, causing Varys to spill his apple cider on his new jacket. The kids didn't even look at who they banged into, just yelled general apologies and kept going. "Sad to say, those bad apples are mine. I best take this excuse and take you home to get that jacket stain addressed." Petyr led Varys out of the crowd and they walked briskly now, towards the parking lot. They had taken Petyr's car since Varys's was in the mechanic's shop this week. "You are internally howling, gibbering with laughter at my jacket. I can tell." A twitch of the lips and Petyr nodded slightly. "Would you feel any different if it were me?"

Varys gave a small smile and nodded. "You are right. I would laugh if it were your misfortune." Petyr frowned when he pulled his car into his driveway and found a large pumpkin just sitting in the center of it. With a sigh, Varys commented, "You'll take the pumpkin onto your porch and in the morning you'll receive a bill for it from one of my students selling them for fund-raisers." "You teach them well, I will give you that." Petyr got out of the car to move the pumpkin and suddenly he was covered in orange guts from head to toe. His car and garage door were also covered in colorful splotches. 

Unlike Petyr, Varys did not laugh internally at his friend's misfortune. No, he giggled out loud.

 

Hot Pie had been holding his phone in one hand and a fistful of tickets in the other. Suddenly, the tickets were gone and his fingers throbbed. "Hey, thanks, fat boy. Got more tickets for another ride, boys, let's go!" Snarling, Lommy shook his fist in frustration. "Fuck! That was all our money! We can't get on any rides now! Why didn't you keep those in your pocket or let one of us hang onto them?" Hot Pie glared at Lommy and then pointed towards Damon who was walking away with their tickets. "Oh? And you would have done better if it was you up against that? Look at the size of him AND he is an officer!" Arya scrunched up her face and sighed. "He isn't a real officer, just the dog catcher. I can go ask Jon for some money, if you want. He wouldn't say no and wouldn't lecture us either."

Gendry shook his head and reached into his wallet. "Nah, I have enough to cover us tonight. But if we want to do anything else this weekend that costs money, I'll be tapped out. Let's get back into the ticket line." It was busy and they spent fifteen minutes waiting their turn. Finally, with new tickets and empty wallets, they ran towards the rides again. "Okay, what do we want to go on first? Huh?" It was another ten minutes spent arguing over where to start. Gendry and Lommy found themselves dragging a hesitant Hot Pie behind a determined Arya. While waiting in line, they saw Jon and Robb on the bumper cars, mercilessly pummeled. They took pictures and jeered at them. That's when they felt others shove past them to steal their places in the long line.

Arya spun around and the group of them surged forward. "Hey! You can't cut us like that! We've been here waiting for a long time! Get to the back, assholes!" Gendry and Hot Pie both winced as Lommy went to join Arya in loud justice. The males that had gone past them turned with sneers on their faces. A tall, handsome man about her oldest brother's age spoke in a soft but sarcastic tone. "Oh, I'm sorry, truly. It's just that instead of standing in line you were hanging over there, just blocking the way for those of us who actually want to ride something. Next time, pay more attention. It's a good lesson for you little punks." Hot Pie groaned as he recognized the three of them. "Hey, let it go, Arya, Lommy. We can just wait behind them, okay? Just let it go, let them pass and let's go on with our night, yeah?"

Polliver grinned meanly and his shaven head only made him look more menacing. "You should listen to your rolly-polly piglet friend. Now, shut the fuck up or I'm going to tie you to the front of the roller coaster as a fucking decoration. Okay? Great!" Gendry had pulled Lommy back and had put a hand on Arya's mouth while yanking her against him. "Fine. It's over. We go back to our conversation, you go back to yours." Raff, Polliver and Tickler laughed then dismissed the kids behind them to continue their line cutting. Hot Pie shook Arya when she started to say about going after them again.

"Listen! They all belonged for years to my Uncle's gym. They took classes and fought in tournaments too. And they were the worst fucking bullies I've ever met. The bastards won awards for my Uncle, they helped him get more memberships and helped get classes filled. So they got away with anything they wanted to. They harassed everyone, beat the hell out of anyone weaker than them. Raped two female clients and it was totally swept under the rug. I hated them, they made me act like pig, crawling and snuffling once, another time they made me stand naked while they whipped me with wet towels. When they finally left the gym, I was near to suicidal. You don't want to challenge them, Arya. We can't take them on, they are older, stronger and way more dangerous. I'd rather pick a fight with fucking Damon or Ramsay than those sadists!"

Lommy's face lost all color and Hot Pie felt a presence looming over him from behind in the line. A fearsome growling voice said, "Excuse me? Want to fucking pick a fight with me, huh?" Hot Pie stared up at Damon and stammered. The large man leaned down slowly into the fat boy's face with a cutting smile and predatory eyes. "Give me the rest of those tickets, boy. For that smart ass comment or I'm going to see if a fat boy can dance." Damon's hand hovered over the whip he is famous for both carrying and using. "Fuck. This is so fucking unfair! No! No! You can't have our tickets! You stole the first batch and we can't afford anymore! Get off him, I have the tickets, not him!" Damon looked up from Hot Pie to smirk at Gendry. "You seem very frustrated tonight, boy. Maybe this wasn't a good night for you. Maybe you want to take your friends home or would you like to dance for me? Maybe you can all dance for me?"

Arya nearly screamed in frustration. "Look, it's those CUNTS up ahead that already have stolen our spot in line. And you ASSHOLES already stole our tickets earlier! I am fucking SICK of all of you! You don't get to just shove us around, hear me!" Swears occurred up ahead in line as the three came back. "Who the fuck are you calling cunts, you little bitch?" Hot Pie moaned as Tickler began to advance upon Arya as Damon was heading for Gendry.


	6. A Pirate, A Challenge And One Sneaker

Shireen sat on the dark empty wharf with the fog and let the wind carry sounds of the fair to her. She could just see the carnival lights, the lights on the ferris wheel blinking in a maddening pattern. Just barely see it through the heavy wet fog that seemed to hover above the water as if waiting for something. It felt, looked as if it were pregnant with something and Shireen stared hard at it. In spite of the intense stare, Shireen's body was completely relaxed. This was the only time she truly ever did feel at ease. Never was afraid to be here, for some reason, even as a little girl, this was where Shireen wanted to be. Next to the water, hearing the waves, tasting salt on her tongue, breathing it in. To her it was a magical place, this wharf.

According to their local history, this was a famous stopping area for pirates to trade for a time. Varys always had a soft spot for Shireen, his top student in everything at the middle school. He was happy to accommodate the girl's interest and arranged for a special tour. Balon Greyjoy, an actual descendant of one of the most famous local pirates, told hair chilling stories to Shireen. She was breathless as he took her through the different areas that used to be taverns, brothels. He showed her the areas where the ships would dock and he named them all for her. Balon took her through the different small museums to show her the scattered artifacts of his ancestors and other pirates. He recommended books for her to read and had seemed genuinely flattered at her interest in his knowledge. Shireen couldn't understand why the Greyjoy tours weren't as popular as others. Maybe the private tours were different, but Shireen was truly enthralled with it.

When Balon took her out on the pirate ship that he himself spent his life making, she was breathless. He took her out past the town then turned around to crouch before her. When he spoke it was in a hushed tone. "Now, listen carefully, my girl. As of right now, this moment, we are no longer in need of our cell phones, let's turn them off and put them away. And we are no longer in need of these clothes anymore. Down in the cabin you will find everything we shall need to finish this adventure of ours." Shireen had a habit of getting tears in her eyes when she thought about the rest of that day. She was no longer herself, Shireen, the timid and unloved daughter had been shattered. A new self had emerged as she and Balon emerged from the cabin.

Fully dressed as pirates in as authentic clothing as the man had been able to replicate over time. Shireen had gasped at the outfits and the weaponry, the belts and accessories a pirate would have had. He had thrust a map at her as soon as they had entered the cabin. Balon explained that no one else would understand his obsession with pirates and even his own children hated it. Shireen was happy to oblige and they spent the rest of that day as pirates. Balon led her though sailing carefully through the cove. He simulated a sea battle for her as best he could. They drank homemade mead and Balon taught her how to use a sword at least enough for a fake sword fight. It was one of the best days in Shireen's life and it made coming to the docks even better.

Shireen allowed her mind to think of pirates, of whores screaming bawdy jokes from a nearby tavern. Then the fog began to finally give birth to a pirate ship. She wondered if she was seeing her first ghost ship but then it defined into a real ship, similar to Balon's. Sitting still, Shireen watched with interest as a man docked the ship then jumped onto the docks. His every step caused the bloated wood to creak alarmingly and his outfit caused a slight jingling. Shireen took note of every detail, from the eye patch to the long leather coat. The boots, the breeches, the thick belt with small loops of chains holding keys and more. Long fingernails, thick silver rings on every finger, to the earrings and nose ring. "Are you a pirate? A real one?"

The man seemed to take her full measure before he responded. "Yes. I am. Are you out here alone, young lady? It's dangerous for a little girl to sit here on the docks at night." Shireen shrugged. "Not really. I do it all the time. If it was the past, the time of pirates, it might be dangerous. Except I have learned all about them and I would know what to do, how to react. I know what I would want. I would want to disguise myself as a cabin boy to join up. My main goal would be to become a female pirate and become the deadliest pirate in history. Need a cabin boy by any chance?" He stared at the girl for a moment then cackled, truly amused. "If you were a bit older, my dear, I would most certainly take you on as a cabin boy and teach you piracy. You must know my brother, only he has this much obsession with pirates besides myself, of course." Shireen grinned. "Oh, you are Euron Greyjoy! Yes, Balon is wonderful! I only got to take a private tour with him once but I'll never forget it. I'd like to pick your brain on pirates too!"

"I am flattered, dear. However, I am afraid I am in a bit of a rush. As much as I love being a pirate, I have other duties as well. The moon calls and I answer it, just as I do the tide of the sea. And right now the moon tells me to come home, that I am needed. So if you'll please excuse me, I have only a limited time to complete my duties." Shireen nodded slightly with complete understanding. "You only have until Halloween night. You are from this town, after all. I understand. It was nice to meet you, Euron. Good luck with your duties." Euron gave a small bow to the girl and continued on his way while Shireen went back to watching the fog that seemed to hold nothing else new.

 

Damon growled into Gendry's face but the stubborn shit couldn't, wouldn't back down, it was too late for that now. "Go on, an officer of the town whipping a teenager, won't that look great for your job? You think we won't record it, look at Lommy and Hot Pie, they are already recording this now. You'll lose your job." That made the anger on Damon's face turn to surprise and the giant blond man took a step back. Arya grinned fiercely at Tickler who froze when the kids started to hold up their phones. But he leaned closer, his thick meaty lips moving slowly, his tongue poking the tip out like a tiny hairless mole.

Once his ugly face was nearly in Arya's he spoke, the sausage and onion sub he had earlier puffing into her disgusted face. "This is your last fucking lucky day, girlie. You want to challenge the big boys, do you? Well, we are only happy to oblige you. You'll be seeing us before this night ends. If not, there is always tomorrow. Shouldn't have fucked with us, bitch." He spoke too low for the phones to pick up but the kids heard him clearly enough. Then he turned away with his friends and they waited silently for the ride. Damon sneered at the kids and gave a laugh. "Know what? I'm going to let it go, guys. Keep your tickets. I'll let them take care of your punk asses. Fucking idiots, nice knowing you."

 

Ramsay was waving impatiently at Damon from the rest area. Damon stomped over and started to mutter to him and Alyn about the little punks. Skinner came out of the small area of the plastic cubicle toilets. Ramsay raised his eyebrows and spread out his arms. "Did you fucking forget something? Where the fuck is Reek? You were supposed to wait for him! You know how skittish he can get on his own." Skinner looked nervous and he kept a safe distance from Ramsay as he spoke fast. "I can't find him, Ramsay! He was in the one next to me! I hear him go in and then I heard a bang and scream. I got out as fast as I could but he was just..gone. Only his shoe was still there. I'm sorry, I looked all around before coming back out."

They searched everywhere for him, Ramsay holding tightly to the battered and dirty sneaker. Ramsay became increasingly frantic as it was clear that Reek was truly gone. He wouldn't have run away without his shoe, in fact Ramsay was positive that his pet wouldn't run away at all. But who would wish to steal Theon Greyjoy? Ramsay could only think of one person and he began to call Theon's sister as he drove with he boys for her house at breakneck speed.

With fury Ramsay broke into the empty trailer that Yara lived in. He kicked past beer cans, his nose flinched and itched from the lingering smoke of cigarettes and weed. He found nothing that indicated that she was after Theon again. But Yara has been known to attempt to "rescue" her little brother from first her father and then Ramsay many times over. "Ramsay, I can't be in here like this. My job...your father got it for me and he'd be pissed if I lost it like this." Ramsay hurled a beer can at Damon but then nodded and they left the trailer. Skinner offered to stake out the trailer overnight while the others continued the search elsewhere. "Yeah, thanks buddy. Okay. You two, let's find my boy."


	7. Gone Missing

Robb, Ygritte and Gilly ended up being the only ones brave enough to try the large fake pirate ship swinging too high in the air. Jon and Sam began to discuss their courses as first year college students. Sam started to blush and stammered out to Jon, with a quick secretive glance over to Jeyne, who was watching the ride. "I bought an engagement ring for Gilly. I want to ask her to marry me."

He showed Jon the small ring with the small tiny diamond chips that created a little rose. "It's really nice, how could you afford that? I know that you don't make an awful lot as a museum tour guide, Sam." "I...uh...well, I dipped a little into my funds and then was lucky enough to find this at the pawn shop. Anyway, I mean, we already live together, I am already like a father to little Sam...why not make it official?"

They heard a burst of laughter and looked up from the small patio table to see Robb and the girls grinning at them. Gilly looked confused as Sam had frozen, still holding the ring out to Jon. "Sam? Is there something you would like to tell me?" Just then Robb looked about and asked, "Hey, where did Jeyne go?" Ygritte said that she probably went to the bathroom and they all went back to watching the Sam and Gilly drama play out.

Sam went to one knee awkwardly and Gilly burst into tears. "Oh, how much money did you spend on this? You stupid man! Yes, I will marry you and you can adopt little Sam as your own. Get up, please. Idiot. I love you." Jon announced that it was now a celebration and they should head to the local brewery. Robb frowned and then noted it had been at least fifteen minutes since Jeyne had been seen. "Sure, let's figure out where Jeyne ran off to and then we can go."

 

Joff made a sound of annoyance as Sansa suddenly stopped halfway towards the gaming booths. "Sansa! Let's go! Stop fucking just stopping dead or I'm going to just let you find your own way home tonight." "I'm sorry, Joff, but look! That is Jeyne's phone and pocket book. Just laying here in the dirt." Joff didn't care and said so but the twins stopped too. Loras picked up the items and hailed Robb nearby.

"Hey! Is your girlfriend missing stuff?" Within moments, Joff found himself a very unwilling member of a search party. The stupid glitter twins kept babbling about how in the fall bad things tend to happen and Jeyne is probably murdered already. Sansa had a more positive outlook but Joff had nothing nice to say at all. In spite of all their searching, Jeyne was gone. Her parents had last heard from her that afternoon as she had readied and left to meet Robb.

Robb was told patiently over and over that it took more time to consider Jeyne a missing person. However, he was able to sway the chief of police, Roose Bolton, to at least check into the matter. Sighing, Roose nodded to Robb. "I will give a search but I already heard from my son that Theon Greyjoy is also missing tonight. Has it occurred to either of you that those two might be off together somewhere? Jeyne was not truly in love with you, was she, Robb? I mean, I heard from your very own father it was more of a convenience relationship. And her parents have always been somewhat overbearing on her. We also know that Theon has good reason to run off. They were friends in school and even now, Ramsay let's Theon visit with Jeyne...maybe they just had enough and left town. That is my guess."

 

Unella flicked on every single light in the house. Gregor would have broken her wrist at least for such a blatant waste of electricity. Then she found the old radio and turned on music loud enough to fill the place. Sandor came up from the basement and gave a small grin. "Aren't you wasting no time getting brave! I like it, it's nice to have music and light and meals whenever we friggin want for once. Nice to not be told what the fuck to do every second of every day, huh?" Unella nodded then surprised even herself by getting a beer not just for Sandor but for herself.

They sat at the table and Sandor took a long pull of his beer before speaking. "You know, it feels so damned strange. And this season...I've never taken charge of the fall season before. Not by myself, not without Gregor telling me what to do." Unella cringed a little and then took her own large pull before speaking. "I will help you, just like always. We can do things on our own, I know we can. Your parents trained Gregor then he trained you, he trained me, it's a family tradition and I am a Clegane, regardless of whether Gregor lives or not. I will be your partner in all our works, Sandor."   

That night Unella helped Sandor with his projects while they sang along to the radio. Then Sandor helped Unella put up Halloween decorations, something Gregor would have never allowed. He was irritated enough during Christmas, when he did begrudgingly allow his brother and wife to put a tree and some lights up. So it felt wildly rebellious of them to hang ghosts, bats and carve a pumpkin. "Maybe we can go to the fair or the haunted house tomorrow?" Sandor ventured out as they sat on the porch, rocking slowly on the swing they rarely ever used. "Okay. Or how about to supper at one of the pubs? I...might get my hair done and maybe a new outfit for going out in." Unella felt terrified just even saying that but reminded herself that Gregor was dead.

He cannot get angry over wasted funds or possessively enraged at his wife or brother for daring to live among society. Sandor saw Unella's fearful look and put one large paw over her cold shaking tight fist. "He is dead. Even if we didn't see his body today, we heard the reports. He is dead and tomorrow we will see that he is made into just ash. A large pile of ash and then we can bury him for good and forget him. We are free. You are free and we are as safe as can be. Tomorrow, get yourself done up and we will go out to the pub. We have made ourselves as ready as we can for our seasonal work. Might as well give ourselves a good day or two to enjoy before getting to it."

 

Knowing that ruthless adult bullies were lying in wait for them killed the vibe and enjoyment of the carnival. Hot Pie and Gendry just wanted to go home. Lommy wanted to go home but for a different reason. He didn't wish to hide, he wanted to get the gun he stole from his father, it had three bullets in it. Arya was wavering, trying to decide the best approach to their new problem. "If I told my brothers, they'd take care of it for us but my parents might find out. At the very least, my brothers will treat us like little kids. I mean, do we really need any help? I think that we can handle this ourselves. I mean, they will forget about us soon enough, I bet." Hot Pie shook his head as they headed towards the fun house. "No, they don't forget a grudge. We are fucked and should just hide."

As they decided to go through the small fun house and then go home, they saw Raff, Polliver and Tickler heading their way. They ran into the fun house, followed by whooping men on the hunt. Hot Pie fell in the tunnel that kept endlessly turning and his foot was caught by a large painful grip. In a panic, he screeched and kicked his other foot. He saw Polliver grab his gushing nose and fall back, his small eyes turning into small orbs full of angry promise towards the fat kid. Gendry reached back and yanked Hot Pie out of the tunnel by his collar just as Tickler leaped into the painted spinning void. Lommy was staggering fast on the swaying chain bridge when Raff started trying to knock him off it by vigorously shaking the bridge.

Arya came out of nowhere to leap on Raff and knock them both off the bridge onto the mats below. There was another tunnel there for those who fall off the difficult bridge and she flew into it, Raff right behind her. Gendry and Hot Pie made it across the chains but Tickler and Polliver were right behind them. Lommy barreled into Polliver, knocking him into Tickler and the three ran out of the fun house exit. Arya shot out moments behind and the group ran, ducking behind trailers as the hunters came searching for them. Hot Pie nearly collapsed as they reached the parking lot and Gendry's old beat up car. Just before they got in, Arya heard the voices of the others catcalling from a distance. Hot Pie made a comment about Polliver's sports car and how if the guys got here, they could easily overtake Gendry's old car.

Lommy and Arya didn't think or speak, they just acted. Gendry moaned and Hot Pie kept shaking his head, muttering about making it worse. But Arya and Lommy took out their pocketknives and slashed Polliver's tires then added a few nice lines to his car. Hot Pie saw the three coming and screamed to his friends that they needed to leave right now. They all jumped into Gendry's truck and took off as the three reached Polliver's car. Polliver looked at the damage and then looked at his friends. "This isn't fucking over until at least two of them are dead and the other two are in the hospital. Fucking little punks want war? They are about to get war."


	8. A Ruined Lawn

Friday night begrudgingly gave way to Saturday morning and even as some slept in, others were already stirring.

Olenna Tyrell was giving her servants fits as she stormed through the house looking for her long dead husband's gun. The maids fluttered around her, trying to halt her from the gun cabinet but she was a slow moving tank that would not be stopped. Her arthritic fingers had a hell of a time with the safety and curling a finger around the trigger was near agony but she managed. By the time the maids thought to wake the twins over it, Olenna had managed to reach the lawn. She thrust her dentures out in a menacing growl at the large steaming offense upon her lawn.

She had seen the large beast slinking, just barely a glimpse but it was enough to see it was lowering it's haunches to enjoy a bowel movement upon her flower garden. Olenna knows it must still be around, it hasn't been that long. A rustling sound from the bushes had her slamming her cane into the lawn, destroying it herself now and that angered her further. Using her cane thrust deep to steady herself, Olenna took aim at the rustling and fired the gun. Her grandchildren were heading down the staircase half awake and grumpy when they heard the gun shot. Then they heard their grandmother screaming in horror and they suddenly were very fast and wide awake.

Loras made it to his grandmother first, his sister not far behind him, the maids already calling for emergency services. He has never seen his grandmother in such a state in his life. Not when his grandfather died, not when his parents died, she was always the rather eccentric clever rock the twins relied on. Now she looked truly old, tears poured into wrinkles, causing small ravines and he focused on it in a dreadful sort of way. She was kneeling near the bushes, holding Jeyne Poole's twitching body. The shot had gone through the girl's left eye. Olenna held the dying woman and tried to apologize over and over as the woman's hands and nails clutched at the elderly wrists as if to hold onto life.

Margeary came out with a blanket to cover Jeyne's dead and naked body. She tried to lead her grandmother away but the woman refused to leave the body. Roose himself showed and managed to gently get Olenna to go inside the house with him for questions. "Will you take me in handcuffs or can I freely walk to the jail? I would like to dress first and perhaps have a media free walk into the station if possible. I have given enough through the years to the funds, to have earned that kind of respect, haven't I?" The twins moaned even as Roose patted Olenna's hand.

"Now, Olenna, why would I arrest you? The woman was trespassing on your property and since you didn't see her, it was a terrible accident. You clearly saw a wild animal on your lawn, you were trying to shoot it and sadly, Jeyne was hidden in your bushes. Also, there seems to be more to this than just your accidental shooting. Jeyne was naked, Olenna. And covered in blood and dirt. Your bullet went clean through her eye, it doesn't account for the blood on her whole body. The only investigation I will have is why the girl was here in the state she was in."

 

Cat Stark knew that if her adorable youngest son doesn't stop his mouth soon she might lock him in the basement. Or tie him to a raft and let him sail away, the babbling slowly drifting into silence. "Fine! Fine! You win, Rickon! You can take your friends and go to the fair on your own but if you aren't back home by the time I get back from Bran's doctor appointment, you'll be grounded for two weeks! Two young people are missing, Rickon. How can you not see why I don't want you off by yourself, but at least its daylight. Go, just stop flapping your mouth at me!"

Rickon wanted to tell his mother again how lame it was that he had to go to the fair during the day like a little kid but he sensed not to press his luck. Grinning, he ran off to text Robin and Shireen. Now they just had to get past Robin's crazy mother and they can go. Bran looked after his brother wistfully and Cat patted his shoulder. "After we see Dr. Pycelle, I can take you around the fair if you'd like. We can run into the kids and give them a ride back after." "No thanks, it's not really fun anymore to me." Cat put extra syrup on Bran's pancakes. "Well, have your breakfast and get ready. Maybe we can go for lunch or a movie afterwards instead."

The sounds of alley cats fighting sounded and Bran grinned. "Hey mom, get your cell phone, Cersei is calling you!" With a sigh, Cat tried to juggle the phone while wiping spilled sticky syrup off her hands. "Hello?" Cat listened and Bran watched as his mother's face dropped in shock. "No! Oh god, how do I tell Robb? Thank you for letting me know, dear. I will speak with you later, yes, of course. If the services will interfere with our usual holiday schedule I will contact you immediately." Cat put her phone down and saw Bran's look of disgust. "Someone is dead that is important to Robb, that must be Jeyne. And you care more if it will interfere with your schedules?"

Cat shook her head but her eyes were practical and a bit stern as always. "No, dear. But it matters to Cersei and since she is the mayor's wife, it has to be dealt with. But I am more concerned with telling your oldest brother that Jeyne is dead." Sansa gasped from the doorway and Robb shoved her aside gently to come into the kitchen. "What? What did you say, mother?" It was time and Cat was overwhelmed by it all, it was time for the reinforcements and she hollered for Ned to wake up. He hollered down the stairs, "I am awake! On the phone with Robert and Roose is texting me frantically! Be down when I can!"

It was too late anyway, Robb was already running back upstairs to get dressed and he was already on the phone. "Ramsay? Have you found Theon yet?" "No. Why? Did you hear something, did he contact you? Is Jeyne found, did she say something about him?" "Ramsay, Jeyne is dead. I have no details yet. I am going to find your father and see what the hell happened. Want to meet me there? Maybe its connected to Theon in some way." "Fuck, dead? Okay, yeah, I'll come, I want a word with dearest daddy anyway. He didn't tell me shit, he just kept saying that both Jeyne and Theon ran away together...well, there goes that fucking theory! Oh god, what if whoever killed Jeyne, is killing my boy?"

 

Arya couldn't sleep through the noise of the house and groaned, burying her face in the pillow. The events of the night before hit her again and she wished she could take it back. She was sure that Hot Pie was right, these men are going to beat them down hard, they won't just forget. True, Hot Pie was a coward and a sure target for every bully but he was used to it. He was truly petrified of those men and Arya has never seen him that scared. Even Gendry was really scared about what they might have started. Maybe Arya should tell someone, get some assistance or at least some advice.

Except her family didn't seem to be an option for help today. Her father went between yelling into his phone and trying to get showered and dressed. Jon only told her that Jeyne had died and he was off to find Robb. Bran and her mother left for one of his never ending doctor visits and Rickon took off for the fair with his friends. Sansa was the only option left and Arya found that to be quite useless for her situation but she was at her last hope. Arya forced herself to go ask Sansa for advice but got quickly sidetracked. She had decided to go through the shared bathroom they had to knock on Sansa's connecting door.

The last one in the room was clearly Sansa, judging by the scents of shaving cream and body soap, which were almost overpowering today. However, Sansa was usually a very neat person and was always yelling at Arya for being messy. But Arya has never left huge long twisted skeins of hair smeared along the shower curtain and tub. Not to mention no one else in the house has Sansa's brilliant red hair color but their mother. And only Sansa has hair down to her waist that could produce this quantity and length of hair. Even the counter top and the toilet seat sported strands of hair and Arya gagged as she banged on Sansa's door.

"Go away! Leave me alone, Arya, I'm busy!" "Clean up the bathroom, it's gross! What did you do, cut all your hair off? What's it look like and why didn't you clean up?" "Fuck off!" Arya stared at the door in blinking stunned silence. "Did you just tell me to fuck off? You? Are you sure your okay?" "GO AWAY!" Arya shook her head and muttered that Sansa could just fuck off too. As Arya headed downstairs to grab some breakfast, she wondered if maybe her friends will have any ideas better than she did.

 

Shireen knocked upon Robin's door and Rickon stood just a bit behind her. Facing Robin's mother was always a bracing experience. They could already hear her seagull screech from outside. She had heard of the missing Theon and Jeyne. Rickon could only hope she didn't hear that Jeyne was dead yet. Then they would never get Robin out of the house. The door ripped open and Lysa's narrow frame appeared, her thin neck arched and for a moment she looked like a bird about to peck them to death.

Only Shireen's sweetest of smiles got the squawking woman to let them into the house. Lying through his teeth, Rickon swore up and down to Lysa that his mother was meeting them at the fair. "As soon as she finishes with my brother's doctor, they are meeting us! I promise you." Robin knew just what to do then and gave a bright innocent smile. "Hey! You haven't seen Aunt Cat in some time! Maybe you can come with us, mother! You can visit with your sister while we wheel Bran around and you can come on the scary rides with me!"

Lysa's look of revulsion and horror was priceless but the kids just kept their poker faces going. "Oh no...I am very busy today, dear. Why don't you go on and just make sure you are back before it's dark. I want you to text me every few hours, if you don't I'll come looking for you. Hear me, Robin? And you two, keep an eye on Robin, stay away from strangers! Straight to the fair and back, hear me, Robin!" It was too late, the kids were already running down the street and leaving the squawking of the seagulls behind.   


	9. Victim Blaming

Roose had a throbbing headache, his jaw was so tense it was shooting splinters of pain through his face. The Mayor screaming on his left, the D. A. on his right and his son along with the D.A.'s son screaming in front of him. For one sweet lovely moment, Roose fantasied about pulling out his gun and shooting each of them. Put a bullet through fat Robert's bright tomato red face. Another round right through Ramsay's throat so he can watch the little shit claw at it then one more into Robb's entitled, smug mug. And a bullet to put through Ned's damned noble nose, smashing right through into the wall behind him.

He finally slammed both his fists onto his desk and spoke in a very soft but firm voice. "Gentlemen, I have an investigation to run and you are keeping me from it. You want questions answered, well, so do I. The longer I am kept appeasing you all, the longer it is until we have answers. I have pulled Dr. Pycelle from his normal duties back to the life of a coroner. He is examining the body and will give us answers as soon as he has done a very complete analysis."

"My god man, he was a coroner when WE were children, Roose! How can we trust it? We should send for someone from the city to do it! We don't have more than the most basic of labs! How much might we miss by letting just some ancient man look her over?" Robb nodded at his father's strong words and Roose wanted to lap their blood as it came out of their torn throats. "Pycelle knows what he is doing. He retired because of boredom with it, not because of age. He still has several hospital clients, hell, you trust your own son's care to him, don't you?" 

Just as it seemed that Ned and Robert were going to back off the door slammed open. A furious Sandor came stomping forward. "HOW THE FUCK DO I REPORT A MISSING CORPSE?" That sent Ramsay into a complete freak out of misunderstanding. Robb grabbed Ramsay and whispered something in his ear about remembering another dead person. Roose decided to not hear that and tried to help Robert calm down Sandor. His head hurt so much and he wondered if he had enough bullets to take out everyone in the room.

 

Cat looked up in surprise at the wizened old man in a lab coat, smiling down at her and Bran. "Hello there. I am Doctor Qyburn. Dr. Pycelle was needed elsewhere today so I have taken on his clients for him temporarily. It's nice to meet you, Bran. Shall we go to the exam room?" Bran gave a slight smile back. Cat leaned forward and asked Bran if he wanted her to go with him. "No thanks, mom. I'm fine." He sounded and looked mortified that she would ask such an embarrassing thing. "Of course. Sorry." She watched as they headed down the hall and she tried to remember how she knew Dr. Qyburn's name. It was floating just out of reach and it bugged her as she flipped mindlessly through the magazine provided.

Having utterly no interest in the latest design of gardens or homes at the moment, Cat let her mind float with the name. It came to her with a thud and she gasped out loud. Robb had mentioned the doctor several times during dinnertime. It was the one time of day that Cat really go to check in with her insane and large family. They would all tell amusing parts of their days. Robb has mentioned the creepy doctor that has weird experiments, none illegal but all very strange.

Cat sat on the edge of her seat and resisted the urge to bolt down the hall to save her son. She had visions of the doctor telling Bran how he could give him new legs and make them work in black and white Frankenstein-vision. Cat forced herself to the vision of bursting in like a maniac to find the doctor simply doing his job and having Bran never speak to her again. She stayed in her seat and breathed a sigh of relief when Bran came out no different looking than when he went in. The only difference was Bran seemed to be in a better mood. Taking advantage of it, Cat asked Bran if he would like to go do something, anything. "Yes, let's go get some apple cider and pumpkin pie." Cat inwardly winced, hating those seasonal treats with a passion. "Sure. You can pick the bakery."

 

Cersei strode with confidence in her new heels towards her full service beauty salon. She was late due to the ruckus over that girl's death. How delicious that it was Olenna Tyrell to kill her! That dried up matriarch of the town needs to retire and get out of Cersei's way. This should certainly do it. They are playing it off as she was shooting a wild animal she saw on her lawn. Cersei would make sure it sounds like the woman had dementia and was shooting wildly at shadows of her mind. That woman's charities and foundations are almost in her claws now.

Standing in front of Cersei's salon was a tall woman wearing a shapeless gray dress with a matching shapeless gray sweater. She was staring hard at the glass doors and twisting her hands together. Cersei glanced at the glass and saw the doors were open, the employees all working. "Are you lost, dear?" The woman looked at Cersei and she recalled this woman. It was Gregor Clegane's wife, she has seen her in the grocery stores on occasion. A few times Gregor has brought her to the employee parties that Robert has insisted he attend. During times when the brothers had extra work, they had her help them. Cersei has never seen the woman in anything but these shapeless shifts and flannel with work boots.

"Did you wish to come inside? Are you getting a haircut?" Cersei was about to become impatient with this silent woman who seemed to turn into a statue. All of a sudden, Cersei recalled hearing that Gregor suffered an accident. That he was considered dead. "Oh, you poor dear. Of course, you must look your best during such times. I am so sorry on your loss. Please, come inside and let us tend to you. We shall give you the full treatment, dear. Come on. Here we go. One more step, look, you made it into the lobby. No turning back now, ladies, help me with this one." Unella had become frozen when the mayor's wife tried to speak with her, it has been too long since Unella was social. Just even going inside the building was crippling, blinding.

For sometime Unella just allowed them to work on her, not really hearing their words. Cersei seemed annoyed that she couldn't get any interesting information out of her. Unella might be willing to slowly change herself but she wasn't about to talk about her private life to anyone. Slowly, Unella came out of her fear enough to start making small choices on how she was being worked upon. She was firm that no one was putting colored polish on her newly manicured nails. Unella briefly argued with the hair coloring specialist until Cersei showed her the difference between a dye job and highlights. With a sense of wild abandon, Unella agreed that her dull blond hair could be improved with golden highlights.

She even allowed them to pluck her eyebrows, moisturize her face and use a minimum of make up. Unella shivered as she used Gregor's credit card to pay the bill and give large tips to each of the ladies that worked upon her. Cersei nodded at Unella's new shag cut and handsome defined face with satisfaction. "Now, some advice, dear. That look is going to be utterly ruined by that outfit. You must get some new clothing to match your look. Two doors down, a lovely little store that will suit you." Unella whispered her thanks and walked out the door. She caught her reflection in the glass doors and it looked like a stranger's head on her body.

 

Grimly, Unella decided she had to be brave enough to walk into one more store. And use the card one more time. The store was very classy and the clothing was very expensive. It was too much and Unella couldn't take it, she ran out the door before the saleswoman could approach her. This was all stupid, it was too soon and Unella couldn't shake the terror racking her. What if, what if, if Gregor was alive and she wasted his money like this? But he was dead, this was her money too. Unella reminded herself that she worked as hard as he did and lived just as frugally without complaint for years.

Doesn't she deserve to have a small reward? Doesn't she deserve to have a few small expenses of her own now? After all, she will be taking on a portion of Gregor's work as well as her own now. Didn't she spend most of her life keeping Gregor's home clean, helping with landscaping, helping with all Clegane responsibilities? Didn't she spend most of her life caring for her husband and obeying him blindly until he died? So she deserves this. She muttered this out loud, her entire argument, having no idea she was doing so. She also had no idea that she had an audience.

 

 

 


	10. Wasps

 Rickon, Shireen and Robin headed the quickest way towards the fair, complaining the whole way that they have to go during the day like babies. Robin followed Rickon up onto the bridge wall and they balanced. Shireen skipped ahead of the other two as the three of them started to discuss the disappearance of Theon and the death of Jeyne. With a giddy sort of joy in the gory gossip, Rickon confided all he has heard through his siblings.

"I heard that Damon, the animal control officer, was finding ripped up animals, like not just foxes and deer but cats and dogs! Sansa said that she and Joff saw the wolf! And Olenna only shot Jeyne because she saw the beast and thought it was in her bushes again. And Jeyne was found naked! Werewolves would rip their clothes off wouldn't they?" Robin shook his head firmly to disagree. "My mother says werewolves don't exist but serial killers do. It is some serial killer that has a thing for sacrificing to the devil on Halloween!"

Shireen sighed with irritation. "Except it isn't actually Halloween yet, is it? And I don't believe in werewolves either." "Okay then, Missus Smartypants, what do you think is happening then?" Shireen opened her mouth to answer Rickon when she suddenly stopped dead. She tilted her head while staring forward then managed to mutter, "Zombie. Zombie."

Robin giggled and Rickon grinned too. "Really? You think it's a zombie attack? That is more reasonable than werewolves or serial killers? Might as well add killer clown cannibals too." Shireen didn't bother to attempt a reply, she just pointed ahead. Both boys suddenly went pale and very silent. In fact, in their moment of facing true horror, both boys looked as young and innocent as five year olds.

Shireen tried again to speak and still only managed to mutter, "Zombie." They all watched as Gregor Clegane walked past them. His skin was gray, eyes were black marbles but it was Gregor and he was clearly moving under his own steam. It was only when he passed them and his eyes landed upon them that the three kids took off running.

 

Gregor stared after the stupid kids and wondered what the hell was wrong with them. Qyburn had assured him he looked fine and that the stiffness in his body would fade eventually. Qyburn told Gregor that there were some medications he will have to take for some time. As for the angry wasps stinging his brain, the doctor has prescribed very strong painkillers that were only starting to soothe the insects. The doctor told him he had a very traumatic medical experience and would need to come in at least three times a week for tests for a while.

The doctor had wanted Gregor to stay in the little private clinic near the back of the hospital where he woke up. Gregor wasn't having it, he had responsibilities and a family that needed his direction. He needed to return home and was quite firm on that to the doctor. At first, the doctor tried to get sneaky and sedate him, but Gregor caught him at it. Holding the doctor in the air, Gregor exacted a promise that the doctor would allow him to leave without further issue.

"Yes, fine. But you must come back every few days. Please." Gregor had agreed and took the medications and list of symptoms to report to Qyburn as he left. He briefly thought of calling his brother or wife for a ride then decided to walk home. It wasn't that far and it was nice weather, plus Gregor felt as if he needed to get his bearings. Walking through town seemed to help that a bit. The kids threw him off a little though. Gregor was always intimidating to small kids, but never to that level.

He wondered why the doctor hadn't bothered to call his family. He wondered why Sandor and Unella didn't get concerned and look for him. True, Gregor was known to be away for a few days at a time when needed. He was the only one in the family that he trusted to travel out of town alone. But Gregor has carefully seen to it that both Sandor and Unella relied on him heavily. So why didn't they try to call him or check in with anyone? They both know that he would never leave town or go overnight anywhere without telling them.

Frowning, the wasps starting to really swarm hard, Gregor heavily walked up his winding dirt driveway, staring at his house. He glared at the damned decorations that his wife and brother apparently decided to hang up. Since when they were granted that permission, Gregor would like to know. Is this what they did when he wasn't around, just wasting their time and his money on such things? When he ripped down the jaunty bats from the porch, they shredded in his hands.

Gregor went inside, ready to scare and beat the living rebellion out of his wife and brother to find the house empty. Maybe Unella was helping Sandor on a project? He checked the basement but found it empty. The calender on the kitchen wall showed that Gregor had written that they would take this one last weekend off from their landscaping work. As it headed into October, the family will become busier and even Gregor understands the need for a break before a grinding season. Gregor had actually planned a little trip for his family.

He was going to take them to the huge flea market the next state over so they could replace their clothing and maybe pick up some new used furniture. Now his generous plan was ash, his anger at his little mice growing. How they apparently decided to play when they thought the cat was away! Gregor actually grew a mean smile at seeing the blatant disrespect left by them.

There were two crystal glasses sitting in the sink strainer. Gregor's personal whiskey glasses, both washed and dry but still they were out and in the sink strainer, so somebody or rather two somebodies dared to drink out of his glasses. He checked and saw not only all Sandor's beer gone but most of his own personal scotch. Oh how his little mice would be screaming tonight. If they were very lucky he might not end up putting them in Qyburn's clinic with their own traumatic medical experiences.

Gregor went upstairs to shower and change his clothes. He wore his thickest belt and his heaviest steel toed shoes, his main tools of choice to discipline his wife and brother with. Laying on the bed after taking more of the pills, Gregor waited for the wasps to stop eating his brain. And he also waited for his naughty brother and wife to get home. It wasn't very often that Sandor or Unella dared to defy Gregor and so blatantly. He will remind them of why that is when they return from whatever the fuck they thought they were doing.

 

Bran and Cat watched the poor muttering woman with mild sympathy and concern. "Is she mentally ill maybe? Or homeless? We could offer her some of the donuts?" Cat gave Bran a small smile at his generous offer and shook her head. "She is not homeless, her head is fresh from Cersei's shop. But I know those gray shapeless dresses because only one woman ever wears them. That is Gregor Clegane's wife Unella. The landscaper's wife, remember?"

Bran nodded then looked harder. "Ah, I didn't recognize her with her hair and face like that. Plus she is usually so sort of...serious looking and grim. She looks scared and she is always silent, now she is talking to herself and loudly. Should we help her?" Cat suddenly sat bolt upright and winced. "Oh no, I just remembered. Didn't Rickon find Gregor's body yesterday? Oh no, the poor woman must be so upset. Yes, I am going to help her right now."

Bran agreed but tilted his head in confusion. "Unella never struck me as a person in love with her husband." Cat grimaced. "The woman has led a rough life with Gregor but he was her husband. She spent all these many years with him, of course it would affect her deeply."  Unella flinched when the pair walked up to her and Cat put a gentle hand on her elbow. "Excuse me? Mrs. Clegane? Unella? Do you remember me? It's Cat Stark and that is my son Bran. May I express my sympathies on your loss? You seem lost, would you like some help?"

Unella froze again, unable to help it and then to her ultimate humiliation, stinging hot tears filled her eyes. Cat instantly understood and shielded the woman from being seen by Bran or anyone else. "Let's see, judging by the lovely make over, you just came from Cersei's. Here, dab with this tissue so you don't ruin those lovely eyes. Now, how about I stroll with you into that store over there? You should get a nice blue dress perhaps." She guided the silent woman into the store while Bran decided to wait outside.

He ordered another hot cider and that's when he noticed the clown.


	11. Hunting For Trouble

Ramsay was nearly insane as he tore through town uselessly. He was deserted, ruthlessly tossed aside by his so called friends. Robb had to deal with Jeyne's grieving family, he understood that. And Robb wasn't actually his real friend anyways. But Damon had been ordered by Roose to take the best hunters out into the woods and shoot whatever beast was driving their town crazy. Naturally, Damon took Alyn and Skinner, both hunters that only paled against Ramsay or Roose. Except Ramsay wouldn't be assisting to hunt some damned wolf hybrid. He was hunting a different sort of prey all together.

He felt that his friends should have stayed to help him. Logically he understood that Damon could not tell Roose no and that his friends were the best hunters to help catch the creature. But Ramsay was terrified that his Reek was in the hands of some deranged killer. He was firm in his belief that his pet wouldn't run away and that Reek loved Ramsay, needed him. What if, what if something at the fair scared the poor coward enough that he ran into the woods and got lost? What if that beast decided to rend Reek the way it gutted deer? However, Ramsay wanted to hold onto the thought that the Greyjoys took him back, they stole him.

Yara never returned to her trailer and she wasn't seen by anyone in several days. No one reported it because no one cared. Ramsay found that suspicious that first the sister and now the brother are gone. So Ramsay decided to take the useless step of visiting Balon, the siblings worthless father. A cranky bitter man stuck in a pirate world that no one cares about. His children have nearly disowned him as much as he has disowned them. Yet Ramsay has seen Reek sneak an occasional card in the mail for his father. And Yara always tried to keep contact with Reek, if not her father.

Maybe Yara mended the breach with her father and they decided to grab Reek? It was a false  hope and Ramsay knew it but at least he felt like he was doing something. He pounded on the door of the tall narrow old building but received no answer. Ramsay screamed in frustration and kicked the door. It opened an inch and Ramsay cocked his head, calling out, "Balon? Mr. Greyjoy? Is that you? It's Ramsay Bolton, I'm looking for Re..Theon. Is he here, please? I am really worried about him. Can I come inside? Sir? Are you there?" Ramsay kept calling out as he carefully opened the door.

Balon was not known for his steady temper and Ramsay expected the man to come flying at him from around a corner. There was only silence, darkness and a smell of copper, of something sweet and rotten all at once. His nose twitched, his throat thickened and Ramsay shuddered. He moaned as he slowly entered into the house and saw a pool of blood on the hardwood floor. Terrified it might be his own frail boy broken into so many pieces on the ground, Ramsay moved the broken banister from three stories above, off the body. It was Balon Greyjoy with smashed limbs and a split head, his face somehow with an accusatory look upon it.

 

Polliver snorted a little more coke along with Tickler who giggled, bouncing up and down, ready to go. Raff smirked and simply enjoyed his joint. "Okay, I have sent Shitmouth to do some recon, get a little information on our punks. Of course, we already know where to grab Hot Pie but that isn't much of a challenge, is it? I mean, he is going to be easy for us. It's the others I want to plan out carefully. Let's not make it quick, I want them to fucking sweat it out and suffer."

With a shark like smile, Polliver rotated his neck and drawled out, "I have plans all right, for all of them. Many, I made fucking LISTS of shit I plan to do to them. Its just a matter of which ones we go with." He started to put his items into Tickler's van. A bat with spikes driven into it, a rifle with a scope that he stole from one of the Bolton boys just a year ago. Polliver also added his favorite knives and a length of rope. The other items already in the van included duct tape, chains, a nail gun and more. 

Handcuffs, handgun and a baton swung from Raff's hip. Of course he wasn't supposed to have them off duty but this was a special occasion in his mind. Moments later, Raff was cursing as his phone went off. "Fuck! Fucking Roose is calling everyone in! I have to go. Don't have too much fun without me, okay? I don't want to find myself responding to a call that a group of fucking kids was slaughtered! I don't want the paperwork and I'll be pissed that you didn't include me. I mean it!"

Polliver and Tickler assured Raff that they wouldn't go overboard. That they would save any real wet work or fun for when Raff was around. Raff ran off to grab his uniform and pretend his wasn't a deputy stoned out of his mind.

 

Ygritte and Jon met up with Damon, Alyn and Skinner to plot out the hunt. Since Ramsay wasn't able to help, Sandor was not in a helpful mood and Gregor was dead and missing, Damon needed hunters. Both Jon and Ygritte were known to be very good. Ygritte has won awards in archery and is an expert tracker. She earns most of her living as a forest and mountain guide. Jon is an a good tracker and hunter in his own right but as a hobby. Both were willing to assist and both used bow and arrow.

They split up, Jon and Ygritte were their own small team. They all began to try to search for the wild canine that has caused so much trouble. None of them were looking for a werewolf, all of them were searching for a possible wolf or hybrid. Jon pointed out a huge dried mess that could have come straight from Olenna's lawn. Ygritte nodded and grimly set forth, Jon eagerly following. Deeper they went and found one more stool pile then actual paw prints, four of them in dried mud.

Jon stared hard at the prints and Ygritte gave a tiny moaning sound. He tried to keep his voice level as he spoke to her. "You see those, right? I mean, it isn't just me? It must be a prank, right? Some kids, hell, my own little brothers would do this." Except Rickon would never be this deep into the woods and Bran could never make this terrain in his wheelchair. Ygritte whispered that Jon knew nothing and should shut up.

But she too stared at the prints, trying to convince both of them by sheer stubborn will that they are not real. No wolf has feet like that nor do they half half paw, half hands with deep nail imprints. "It is fake. Has to be. Come on, Jon, we are being played. There are no creatures that have prints like that. There are no werewolves or half man beasts, right? Lets take pictures and wait for Damon to come over. He can laugh at us and show us nothing but a fake out."

Damon stared at the pictures sent by the two and he did assume it was a prank. He and Skinner laughed over it but Alyn didn't. Because Alyn was the first one to reach the prints. And when Damon and Skinner emerged from the trees it was to find that Jon and Ygritte have disappeared. Leaving behind the prints, signs of a scuffle and smears of blood. They heard a sudden high scream that rose higher, higher and then cut off abruptly. It was too high and agonized to tell if it was male or female.


	12. Clowning Around

On the way home after Cat assisted Unella while she bought a new outfit, Bran told his mother all about the clown.

"He said his name was Shitmouth. He had a traditional hobo kind of suit, really dirty and had dried blood all over it. A huge bright yellow tie with orange dots all over it, bright pink fingerless gloves over latex gloves, really creepy! His face was painted all white and he had blue triangles over his eyes and his mouth was this huge bright red smear. I think he had fake teeth because they looked very pointed. And this wig of purple straw like hair with a orange bowler hat on his head. He had a strap across his chest and it holds all kinds of sharp weapons. He was nice though, he took out his machete and blades and did this really funny juggling act for me! And then shook my hand before he did this dance away into the alley."

Cat shuddered and frowned. "That sounds perfectly awful and I'm glad I missed it. I hope you didn't tip him anything for such a tasteless act." Bran sighed and gave his mother a freezing out look. Cat mentally cursed at herself as she could almost hear her son shutting her out. "No, mother. He didn't ask for any money. He was just a clown with a unique act that saw a bored handicapped boy and decided to test out his act."

 

Bran stared out the window for the rest of the ride home, ignoring his mother. He thought about the rest of his visit with the clown that he didn't mention to his mother. He had given thought of it but now he was sure not to bother with asking his parents for advice.  Bran will simply go to the source itself and ask Arya why such a talented clown like Shitmouth would be leaving messages for her.

After the wonderful performance, the clown had leaned down and smiled, speaking chummily, warmly even. "Bran, you are a wonderful lad and I'm happy that you enjoy my act, so few do! Now, I ask since I entertained you that you do me a small, tiny favor. Please, oh please, give this small message to a sister of yours. Her name is Arya and this message is not from me, but she will know who it is from. Alright?" Bran nodded, intrigued as Shitmouth smiled and took a deep breath.

The clown's face suddenly darkened like thunder and his voice was deeper, rougher. "Tell that little cunt that she has no idea what she started. Tell her that she will beg for mercy on her knees before it's over. That she might end up six feet under before it's over." The clown brightened again and patted the shocked teenager's knee. "Thanks, Bran. Have a great fall and a spooky Halloween!" And then he just cavorted away into the alley, leaving Bran with plenty of questions and no answers.  When they got home he went to speak with Arya only to find she had already left. He sent her a text and listened numbly to his brother and his friends.

 

The kids had gotten in moments before them and were babbling about a zombie. This seemed more interesting to them then the fair had been. Cat nearly ripped her own hair out. "All that fuss from you over the damned fair and you have nothing to say about it? Instead someone dressed early as a zombie is all you can think about?" All three kids faced her with solemn faces that she wanted to scream into. "No, it was a real zombie, not fake. It walked right past us and it was gray with black eyes! That is a zombie and we ran when it looked at us before it could eat or infect us!"

"Get out of my kitchen. All of you find somewhere else to be within your usual limits, please. But I cannot take anymore of your stories, out until it's supper!" Cat's head pounded and she got out a fresh bottle of wine to ease it. She heard the kids say about getting something from Rickon's room then heading out to do some local zombie hunting. The dishes rattled on the shelves as the sound of a thousand elephants thundered down the stairs and out the door. Before Cat could holler, the door slammed hard enough to knock over a half full glass of water on the edge of the counter.

Moments later, Cat heard her phone beep. She threw the dishrag she used to sop up the spilled water into the sink and checked her text messages. It was from Rickon and he was letting her know that Shireen and Robin would be sleeping over. That parents have already been asked. Fuck. Cat wondered if she should just sprinkle a relaxant into her wine, take a bubble bath or run away from home.

 

Sandor sat at the booth and gave Unella an approving nod, the same as she gave him. He bought new things and wore them too. They felt like children getting away with something and both felt a bit embarrassed. Sandor wore new jeans, flannel shirt, fall jacket and work boots. Unella's change was a bit more dramatic and Sandor actually gave a small smile briefly. With fitting jeans, a nice violet sweater with matching coat and stylish fall boots, the highlights in her modern shag cut and her face made up a little, the woman was actually handsome. "I never noticed you were good looking before, Unella. I wonder if my brother ever knew."

Unella pursed her lips and kept her eyes low, she had no idea how to respond to any of that. When she finally found words they probably were bad ones but it was all she had. "He wouldn't have cared what I looked like. What he would have cared about is how much I spent to look this way. Do you know how much I have spent? I am sick to my stomach thinking of it. How mad he would be at us right now. Did you see his body? Did you order the cremation yet?" Sandor took a deep breath and ordered them each a strong drink. Then he ordered them the steak dish, the most expensive item on the menu.

That alone put Unella into a small trance of shock and Sandor took advantage of it to grab her hand and blurt out the truth. "They lost his body. I tried the morgue, the hospital and then went to the police and reported his missing body to Roose. He is looking into it but he said not to worry. Two people went missing yesterday and Roose thinks we have a loony running around, stealing people and bodies."

Unella shuddered and pulled her hand away to hug herself. "Sightings of a beast, gutted dogs and cats, missing people, a missing body. It's starting earlier this year, the fall gets darker faster each year. Gregor had us taking this weekend off, remember? He said it would be next weekend that things would really get crazy. Guess he thought wrong." Sandor gave a burst of quick laughter and Unella stared at him. "You just said Gregor was wrong about something. That right there tells me how insane our fall has already become." Unella found herself unwilling smiling back.

 

Joff yawned and watched with little to no interest as his father got into his hunting gear. "That barely can fit you anymore. When mother hears you decided to go join the hunting, she will kill you. If the werewolf or whatever it is, doesn't kill you first. Not exactly in the best of shape for this, dad." Sansa took a few steps back and pretended to go deaf as Robert began to bluster. The two of them argued and eventually the sound of a fist hitting flesh happened and Joff cried out as his father stormed out.

The humiliation and pain Joff felt was passed on to Sansa moments later. He smacked her face as soon as she turned around to face him. It knocked her head to the side but Sansa didn't cry out. This wasn't the normal response that appeases Joff and he uses a tight fist, this time into her solar plexus. Joff cried out as Sansa giggled. He held his broken knuckles close to his face as if unable to understand what happened to them. Sansa has been wrestling with control for days but she simply had none left. She was tired of being his punching bag, tired of being a good girl.

She gave a low growl and then the pain that somehow was unbearable and yet pleasurable all at once hit her. Joff staggered back as her bones made terrible crackling sounds and Sansa changed. Soft red hair flowed everywhere, teeth and nails grew, leg and arm joints began to contort and Joff felt his bladder release as he started to stagger backwards. He tried to run on panicked rubber legs but a hand seemed to cover his entire head and then he was lifted and tossed. Sansa watched him hit the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Boneless, like a rag doll, Joff slid down the wall, leaving a blood smear from his broken facial features. 

 

Robert finished packing up his truck and made sure he had everything. He got into the truck and grabbed the remote to open the garage door. It clicked and nothing happened. Swearing, Robert searched the garage for batteries but of course, no one ever replaced anything. He gave a sound of frustration and headed back into the house. He knew Cersei kept batteries in the junk drawer.

Going through the living room and heading for the kitchen, Robert suddenly noticed how very quiet the house was. Moving a bit slower, Robert peered into the kitchen and saw the carnage that was his son. He saw the gigantic red beast lapping at the blood and Robert ran for the garage, for his gun.


	13. Seeing What You Don't Believe

Gregor would happily admit that he has enjoyed wringing occasional screams and sobs out of his wife and brother. He would also admit that both were generally silent, stoic and fearful of nothing but of Gregor's wrath. They were both tough and neither generally given to any form of dramatics. So when he came downstairs after hearing them come into the house, he expected to make them jump a little. After that he would give them a reason to sob and maybe give a few screams for their actions. However nothing prepared him for their reaction except it was as extreme as those kids were earlier.

He had simply entered the kitchen behind the two of them and asked, "Where the fuck have you been and what-" That was as far as Gregor got before Unella screamed in a earsplitting tone and fell to the floor as if her legs were just done with this whole silly gravity thing. Sandor clutched at his heart as if he were about to declare undying love then backed up until he slammed into the wall. "What the fuck is wrong with everyone today?" He growled and watched as Sandor tried to croak out words.

Unella doing no more than gaping like a fish now. "Dead! Yesterday! They told us you died! Roose is looking for your body, they lost it! Dead!" Gregor hollered out, "DO I FUCKING LOOK DEAD TO YOU?" He was shocked when both Sandor and Unella shouted back, "YES!" Unella pointed at him with a shaking hand. "Your eyes are black! All black! And you are gray!" Her voice has never sounded so scared before, not once in their violent history has Gregor ever scared her this much. He shook his head stubbornly and sneered when Sandor started to shake his head over and over.

"They said you were dead. An officer came and said you were dead." Gregor snorted and talked over his brother as usual, dismissing this nonsense. "Dr. Qyburn said it was a traumatic medical incident. I am not dead or I wouldn't be walking or talking, would I? How could you believe they just lost my body, brother? That is so fucking stupidly you, isn't it? Was it your idea to have you both drink my scotch too? And you...don't you look very pretty today, wife. And you look good too, Sandor. So this is what you do when you think I am DEAD? YOU FUCKING CELEBRATE WITH MY LIQUOR, MY MONEY!" 

Gregor got one foot slammed forward as he roared and Unella began to screech, backing frantically in a crab walk. She collided into Sandor, who tried to pull her up to her feet.  Panic got the better of her and she yanked away to run. This made Gregor nearly see red. He thought he taught this bitch years ago not to ever run from him but if she needed another lesson he was happy to oblige. He sent one arm out and was a bit surprised at how hard she was flung backwards. Unella skidded on her ass across the entire floor to slam her back hard into the stove.

Sandor looked stunned and he began to head towards Unella to see if she was alright. Gregor growled and stormed forward towards them both. Yet again both overreacted and Gregor would have ripped his hair out if he had any. Unella went crawling fast under the table to curl into a shaking ball while Sandor put out his arms, begging Gregor to calm down. "Gregor, we are sorry. So sorry, okay? I know we deserve to be punished but maybe when you aren't so angry and so...fucking terrifying. You look like a zombie, you are as strong as one. Punish us later. We can return the clothes, we can pay you back for the dinner bill, for Unella's hair and face."

Gregor responded by slamming his fist down hard upon the table which promptly split in two.

 

Arya was squeezed between Hot Pie and Gendry as they drove fast towards their usual hideaway. Lommy had spent two years restoring his dead brother's dirt bike and was already up there testing it. Gendry parked on a small dirt road that few bothered to use and they started the long walk through deadwood. After a bit they could hear the sound of buzzing, then Lommy swear as the bike stalled. They encountered him just before the small inset concrete stairs that led up a rather steep ravine. Grumbling, Lommy asked Gendry if he could throw the bike in the back of his truck and get a ride home later.

Gendry laughed and nodded. "Yeah, but since we are out of room, I'm gonna tie you to the hood like my catch of the day!" Lommy invited Gendry to perform an impossible act upon himself while he went to put the bike in the truck. Hot Pie usually would be laughing and joining the teasing but not today. He climbed the stairs, still sweating and out of breath, but without the usual complaints. Today, he was pale, silent and pensive, looking everywhere with darting suspicious eyes. Arya sighed and gave him a light punch in the arm as they reached the end of the stairs.

"Come on...no arguing about why we don't move our location to a place with no climbing? Huh?" Gendry gave Arya a look of warning as Hot Pie ignored her and kept walking. Just as the old water tower came fully into view and they could see the small deserted shack near it, Hot Pie stopped. "I complained because I hated the climb but I secretly always enjoyed our shack. It was private, no one knew or cared that we were here. It was ours only and no one else could see our secrets or our world. It was private and it was safe. Now I am afraid to go near it, they might have already gotten to it. They might be in there now."

This gave them all pause until Lommy showed up and was told their wariness of entering their usual sanctum. Lommy chuckled and produced his father's old gun. Gendry rolled his eyes and Hot Pie grimaced. "Lommy. Your gun has fucking DUCT TAPE holding it together! You have more of a chance of that exploding in your face! Put it away. I wish you all would just fucking understand! They aren't like other regular bullies. If you bring weapons, they will bring even better weapons." Arya set her shoulders and boldly started to stroll towards the shack. Cursing, Gendry followed her, the other two behind him.

 

Hurried important clicking of imported high heel designer shoes heralded the coming of Cersei. She parked her car in the small rotary, not wanting to bother with the garage. The damned controller for the garage door had no batteries and she had been in a rush this morning. Cersei walked up her front stairs and stared with disapproval at the dry looking potted plants. She entered her house and gave a tiny frown towards the smears of faded dirt on her marble foyer. Robert had given all the staff this weekend off.

Cersei briskly walked forward and then took a deep breath to center herself. She was going to give both Robert and Joff a piece of her mind. They just assumed that she would clean for them and probably are waiting for her to make them dinner. If they haven't talked Sansa into doing it for them. Just the thought of the upstart boring redhead bitch, Cersei snarled. Then she gagged, which was a complete surprise but the smells of blood, piss, shit and worse suddenly hit her nose fully. "Robert? Joff?" Her voice was strained and a bit hushed, not like herself at all.

Robert was laying half in the garage, half in the hallway near the kitchen. His ham roast of a fist was so white and tightly wrapped around his rifle. A gold wedding ring with way too much gaudiness shone dully. Cersei took note of the fact that Robert's fist and gun were at least four feet from his torso. Well, what was left of it. With a small classy clearing of her throat, she leaned over a large expensive vase and Cersei vomited into it. Once she could stop her stomach from rebelling, sour pumpkin taste burning in her mouth, Cersei went to find her son.

Cersei screamed and raked her nails down her face when she saw her son. Her marriage had been a carefully crafted choice by her father and their marriage was never a good one. It was terrible that Robert died, sure, but Joff was a whole different matter. He was the one shining person in Cersei's life for quite awhile until the rest of the world corrupted him. Cersei hated everyone but her son and he was strewn across her kitchen like raw meat. She sobbed, trying to pull his pieces together, how could she bury him in a proper coffin? There wasn't enough of him left and Cersei found an eyeball, her son's lovely eye staring at her and she felt the world just shift under her.

She started to faint, sagging down when Cersei heard a sound. It filled her with energizing rage and Cersei listened to the padding over her head, the snuffling. Cersei tried to run forward and her hip slammed hard into the floor. Her heeled shoes had caught in a rope of Joff's intestines. Sobbing with horror and despair, she kicked her shoes off and went to pry Robert's gun out of his hand. Cersei fought his stiff thick fingers and softly cursed at him. "You stupid fat fuck, give me the gun, do one good thing for me, would you? Asshole!" 

The dead man released the gun begrudgingly just as Cersei heard the beast heading towards the staircase. She fumbled with the rifle, trying to remember how to work the fucking thing. It has been years since she faked an interest in guns or hunting for the sake of Robert. A huge red beast came leaping from the top of the staircase, over the railing right for her. Cersei snarled, "Oh fuck this!" She reversed her hold and remembered watching little Joff at his baseball games. Cersei had a crazed smile as she screamed out, "BATTER UP!" The creature couldn't stop it's trajectory and Cersei swung the rifle like a baseball bat hoping for the best.

 

 


	14. Dead In A Ditch

It was with great relief that they entered the shack, untouched and as they had left it. They sat on the old patio furniture they had carried in themselves when they first found the place. Lommy rolled a joint and Arya frowned at a text message from Bran. She texted with him for a moment before looking up. "Hey guys? Anyone know a clown named Shitmouth? He juggles cleavers and shit and gave Bran a message for us. That we started a war." Hot Pie looked nearly green and he shut his eyes tightly for a second. "I don't know who that is but I know the message is from Raff, Polliver and Tickler. We are so fucking dead. Okay, that is enough of that. I'm using all my saved up money and getting a bus ticket. I am out of here, I'd rather live homeless in the city. My chances are survival will be better."

Arya scratched her nose and looked embarrassed. "Maybe I should have tried harder earlier today. I was going to ask someone at my house about what to do...we can still do that? I mean, Hot Pie, do we need to do that? Would it help?" Gendry looked at her as if she were crazy. "Are you crazy? They haven't actually done anything yet and no adult will believe us. Even if they believe we were threatened by them, we have no proof. And you know Lommy and I are living away from our foster families, bring us to adult attention, forget it! I don't want to be dragged back! No adults. None."

That is when a loud boom happened, rattling the rusty furniture. Gendry and Arya ran fast down the rock stairs. Hot Pie and Lommy staggered after them. They could all see the flames and smoke through the trees and then heard laughter as Lommy hollered about his bike. Hot Pie grimaced and then whispered, then hollered, "Get back up the stairs, hurry, get back up the stairs!" Gendry stared down in numb shock at the carnage of his truck but Arya yanked him back in time. A string of firecrackers started to go off just where they had been standing and they heard whooping.

Now Lommy was in the lead as they fled back the way they had come. They planned to barricade themselves in the shack but that seemed silly now that there was clown with a cleaver in front of it. Lommy and Hot Pie both skidded and nearly fell to turn and run to a different path. Arya and Gendry overtook them and nearly leaped into the foliage like startled deer as more fireworks went off. The four ran blindly until they hit another ravine, this one with no easy path or stairs to it. "Fuck, fuck, I can't get down this. I'm dead. Dead." Gendry grabbed the whimpering Hot Pie and shook him. "You can do it. Come on, we will climb down together. Or just follow my steps, okay?"

Arya and Lommy grabbed some roots and started to gingerly head down. "You do it, it's easy! Come on, Hot Pie!" Chins quivering, Hot Pie took a deep breath and took one step to follow Gendry. That is when Polliver appeared nearby along with Tickler. His bald head glowed dimly in the rising moonlight and his eyes were narrow and menacing.  "Go on, fat boy, you can do it! Sure you can, you won't end up at the bottom with your fat body all split open. Of course, if you do make it down safe and sound...I'm going to burn your uncle's gym down tonight. Maybe with him in it? Nah, I liked him. I'll wait until he goes home for the night then I'll do it. But at least you'll be safe, won't you, you fucking coward?"

Gendry and the other two pleaded with Hot Pie who just stared at them, frozen at the top. "I can't. You go, all of you go while you still can. I can't let them burn my uncle's gym down, I can't. Just go, please? Go! They will be so busy with me you'll have a head start. Go!" Snarling, Arya started to head back up but Lommy and Gendry blocked her. "Keep going, its too late, okay? Just go!" Hot Pie had already turned and started to walk towards the two sneering men. "Fuck! We are deserting him!" Lommy winced at Arya's words but he breathed in relief when she continued to make her way down the steep slope. "We can go down and around, come back and help him!" Both Gendry and Lommy agreed with this plan, it gave them motivation to move faster. 

Lommy was thrilled to see almost level ground until he heard Arya screech, "Are you fucking kidding me?" Then demented laughter from the damned clown juggling very sharp looking blades right below them. Hearing Hot Pie scream in pain from above them didn't help their moods at all. Arya shook her head and started to climb back up grimly. "I can't desert Hot Pie! I can't do that to my own friend! You two can take your chances with the clown if you want, I'm going to help Hot Pie!" Gendry and Lommy climbed up with her. It was too hard to leave their friend behind to whatever was making him screech and plead like that. Besides, no one really felt like trying to take on that clown. Even the adult bullies seem less dangerous.

 

"Ramsay must be so worried and so angry." Yara wanted to bash her little brother's stupid head against the wall. "Shut the fuck up about him. I am so sick of hearing about how he will feel, about his damned rules and Ramsay, Ramsay! All the time! Shut up! I AM TRYING TO SAVE YOUR DAMNED LIFE AND ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS-" Theon cowered back and whispered quickly. "Yara, please calm down. Please, I'm sorry. Stay calm, okay? I am grateful to you for your help, so grateful! You are saving me from our uncle, from...all of it. Thank you, I am grateful." He wrapped thin hands around the bars of the dog crate and watched as his sister tried to reign in her temper.

The sick part was Theon did feel both grateful and upset at what Yara has done. She has always had a habit of trying to save her little brother. As a baby she would console and feed him when their mother was too ill to take care of her baby. And as children, Yara tried to take the worst of their father's bitter anger over the tragedy of their mother's death. When Balon would go on drunken rampages and beat them, she always shielded Theon from the worst of it. She helped Theon learn to drive, learn to get his first job and how to run away when Balon snapped and tried to kill him.

Yara helped him run to Ramsay which she has always regretted. The first very rocky year that Theon lived with the Boltons caused Yara great alarm. Twice Theon begged her to help him escape, both times she did and sat in the hospital while he was fixed up. Both times Yara had trouble letting her little brother go back to the man hurting him. And now in Yara's messed up mind, she is saving her little brother yet again. From their ominous uncle that Balon always warned and raged about. But mostly what Yara didn't wish to talk about was she was trying to save Theon from herself. She had thrown him into this cage and Yara hopes that will keep her from rending his flesh.

When she feels very calm, he is allowed to use the bathroom, the kitchen and wander around. She watches every step he takes, as if stalking him. Theon had a rough time not being Reek since Yara had Ramsay's intensity and eyes now. Yara gets angry when she sees Theon act like Reek. It was very strange for Theon to wish for Ramsay to save him from Yara. Theon understands Yara's good intentions but fears that she is only tempting herself. He always figured the day would come when Ramsay would accidentally go too far and kill him. Or that his father would finally snap and murder him dressed as a damned pirate. Or his mysterious and ominous uncle would kill him as his drunken father would sometimes yell about.  It had never occurred to Theon that his big sister would be the one to snuff him out.

 

Bran intently stared at his laptop, reading all the articles, watching all the video clips that Qyburn had recommended to him. At first he was just thrilled to have access to the dark web. His new doctor totally rocked like no other and was nothing like stupid fucking Pycelle. He guiltily searched several things before getting to what the doctor had said to research. Once he shocked himself, disgusted himself, aroused himself, jerked off, watched something that made him question their species, Bran finally made it to the recommendations.

He wanted so bad to punch Dr. Pycelle and he was filled with a dreadful kind of hope at the same time. Different scientists and doctors everywhere trying to truly restore those who wish it. Bran begged his doctor to try anything, everything to walk again. The doctor sent him to a therapist to get used to the idea of being crippled. But here was the evidence, clear as day. And Qyburn's clip of Gregor's death and rise, stronger than ever, stunned him. He watched it over and over. Then there was another clip, not Qyburn's work but another's somewhere in the west. Breathless, tears forming in his eyes, Bran watched it until his eyes blurred. Qyburn could try that, he said so. And Bran got a look in his eyes that would have downright terrified his mother had she seen it.

 

"Bran! Supper! I ordered four pizzas! Hurry before these little vultures devour it all!" Cat took another sip of her happy juice as the children have always called it. She didn't have a drinking problem, at least not like Cersei. Like most mothers around this area, Cat has a tendency to drink anytime after the hour of five as long as there will be no need to drive or go anywhere. Now she was muttering irritably to herself as she slammed paper plates on the table. "Of course had I known that half the family would go missing, I wouldn't have opened the wine." The trio of terror came filing in and immediately attacked the boxes of pizza as if they hadn't eaten for days. Bran came down and pretended to run over Rickon until he shrieked and leaped onto a chair.

"Please! Stop it! Take the roughhousing in the yard or the living room or your bedrooms or another time zone, please! I am a bit tense tonight. Bran, have you heard from Arya? The only one I can reach is Robb. He is on his way home soon he said. But I can't reach your sisters at all, they aren't answering their cells, they aren't replying to my texts! And your father isn't responding either!" Bran sighed and Rickon rolled his eyes as they knew what came next when their mother got like this. Cat slammed the bottles of soda onto the table, ensuring that opening them would result in a sugary volcano. "It doesn't matter to any of them whether I worry. Rules mean nothing to the girls anymore. And it's not like I don't worry for a reason! For all we know Arya, Sansa and your father are-"

"DEAD IN A DITCH!

Bran and Rickon responded with Cat in perfect unison. She glared at them as the whole table started to laugh and stormed away with her phone, trying to call Cersei for the third time. "That bitch spends all day texting and calling useless gossip to me, trying to get me to make fun of poor Unella with her! Now when I just want to know if Sansa is with Joff, the stupid woman is too busy to answer me!" Bran slumped his shoulders and gave in grudgingly. "Arya is fine, she is with Hot Pie, Gendry and Lommy. They are at the shack and Arya isn't over curfew time yet. It's only turning dark now and she has until ten to be home."

Cat sagged with relief to know where one of her daughters was. "Thank you, Bran. I'm glad that she at least spoke with someone. I really don't want you guys out late during all this chaos going on. Jeyne is dead, Theon is missing and if I haven't heard from your father by now that means even more crazy things are happening. These aren't safe nights for any of my children to be out during. At least not without..." She cut herself off as the kids all had glazed eyes and mechanically chomping pizza. Rickon looked up after a moment and with perfect drollness, he spoke. "Ah, mother, you are unable to reach Arya, Sansa and father, you said? What. About. Jon?"

Bran gave Rickon a dirty look even as it nearly killed him to hide a smile. Cat's face just fell and she slammed her hand onto the table. "Oh no...not again. Dammit! What kind of mother am I? How can I keep forgetting my own step son? I haven't heard from him either...I'll call him now. What is wrong with me?" They all watched her take her phone and attempt to reach Jon. Robin and Shireen giggled along with the brothers. "Has Jon ever forgiven her for always losing him places?" Bran shook his head and smirked. "Nope. She still forgets him all the time then feels really guilty over it. Too many of us is the problem, I think."


	15. Shrieking Into The Night

The rifle made a terrible sound as it whacked hard into the werewolf's elongated snout. Pain radiated up Cersei's arms from the blow and she gritted her teeth not to drop the slightly bent rifle. She was bolstered by the pained yelp from the creature and that it skidded into the wall as if injured. "You aren't indestructible, are you? Bitch, you came to the wrong fucking house! You killed my son and YOU ARE GETTING BLOOD AND FUR ON MY RUGS!" Cersei didn't even recognize her own unhinged roaring voice as she found herself heading for the beast. 

Dimly, Cersei found herself thinking it was madness not to run out the door while she had the chance. But she couldn't, it wasn't even a possibility to leave this disgusting beast in her home alive. Because Cersei saw that it wasn't only her good whack that has thrown the she wolf off, it was the distended belly full of meat from Cersei's own husband and son. The beast saw the woman coming and has turned with a menacing growl, bloody drool slobbering along with snot, pattering maddeningly on the floor. Cersei didn't have time to worry or wonder about the fact of a werewolf in her home eating her family, she just had reacted. Now seeing the color of the eyes, seeing the half crouching furry figure, Cersei's mind snapped.

"OH YOU BITCH! YOU CUNT, I KNEW YOU WOULD HURT MY FAMILY, I WARNED THEM, I WARNED THEM! YOU BITCH, YOU'RE GOING TO BE MY NEXT RUG!" Cersei turned the gun around and gave a sharp jagged laugh as the wolf beast with Sansa's eyes lunged, thinking to beat the trigger. Laughing so hard that it hurt her throat, Cersei swung the damned rifle again. Batters up, she thought as she gave herself over to the dedication of trying to beat the wolf to death. The gun connected hard enough to make the wolf yelp but not enough to stop it completely. Cersei found herself flat on her own rug with the repulsive thing breathing death and rot into her face, drooling liquid into her eyes.

Then there were headlights and the sound of car door shutting just out in front of the porch as if someone was in a hurry. The wolf raised her head then fled. Cersei felt the pressure and stench of the beast leave her but she found herself unable to chase after it or call out a warning. Instead the world rudely sent her in and out of it for a short time. Cersei was dimly aware of the werewolf padding towards the door restlessly, snarling quietly. There was a knock and the unlocked door then opened just a bit. It was a small town and they were neighborly but only Ned or Cat Stark would feel familiar enough to just enter. Cersei had to admit to feeling a tiny bit of joy knowing that Sansa would probably kill her own parent.

With some effort from her bruised and aching body, she managed to flip herself and try to croak a warning anyway. It was too late for that, of course. Cersei heard the wolf attack Ned then run off while he twitched in the doorway. Sobbing, screaming on occasion, Cersei managed to crawl to her phone, hit for emergency and then she grabbed a bottle of wine. Slugging it down fast, Cersei forced herself to stand, her body throbbing as one big bruise. She staggered to Robert's truck and got out another rifle. When the emergency lights splashed across the dark lawn moments later, it was to find the crazed woman screaming Sansa's name, holding tight to a rifle as if it were a bat.

 

Damon, Alyn and Skinner held their calm composure or pretended to for some time as they searched for the missing hunters. There were no more screams and they found no signs of Ygritte or Jon. Dragging signs seemed to just go off into thin air and as the sky began to darken, Damon was forced to call off the search. "We can't do anything once it's dark up here. We can bring back more to search for them in the morning." Skinner and Alyn nodded and tried to not look relieved. These were the friends of Ramsay Bolton, they don't scare and they don't back down.

Until Jon's head suddenly came soaring from the trees to land before them. Then Damon and Alyn screeched like little girls as Skinner ran like hell until something heavy and roaring snatched him up. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! We are the prey, we aren't the hunters anymore, Damon! We are being hunted and the bitch just flushed Skinner out!" Damon slapped Alyn's face before the man could work into a full hysteria. "Stop it! Or you will be the next victim. We have to stay cool, huh? We have had prey escape from us before, right? Yeah? And we are very good hunters, right? Like the prey that escaped us, we will outsmart the hunter. We can get away from this alive, if we just stay calm and use our heads."

A howl went up just before Skinner began to scream and Damon shuddered. "It's busy with Skinner, let's go towards the river, it's a harder terrain but it's the quickest to get back to a road. See if you can get any signal on your cell as we get closer to civilization. I can't believe no one is even responding on the fucking radio. What the hell is going on in town? No one is around to hear our fucking distress calls? Fucking shitty town. I refuse to die by whatever that thing is, I refuse to die in this shitty town!" Alyn moved fast in spite of being much shorter than Damon, panic giving him wings.

"I can tell you what that thing is. It's a fucking werewolf. Only a werewolf could do things like that. To rip a head off and to just yank Skinner away and make him scream like that? It's a werewolf and the only one we don't see dead or hear screaming is Ygritte. Remember it was Jeyne that was found naked and dirty right after Olenna saw the wolf? Girls are fucking turning into werewolves and killing all the men. That is what is happening in this shitty town." Damon rolled his eyes at Alyn's words but he didn't take the time to argue. He frankly didn't care what the answer was, he didn't care in the least about the question. He just wanted to get out of the woods alive.

 

Robb was having trouble focusing on the road, he was so tired. After dealing with Jeyne's distraught parents for most of the afternoon and evening, Robb was drained. He just wanted to go lay down, maybe eat something first. Which is why when he saw all the emergency lights heading past the Poole's home towards the mayor's home he didn't stop. Normally, Robb would have been curious but he was too damned tired and sad. He might not have loved Jeyne but she was a nice biddable girl and he had been fond of her.

What bothered Robb the most was the mysterious circumstances of her death. She was naked and dirty hiding in the Tyrell bushes. Robb was afraid they will find out she was raped and beaten, dazed she went for help at the Tyrell's but spooked Olenna. He shook his head as if to shake the thoughts out of his head and squinted in the bright red and blue lights as he passed them. Taking the turn past the Baratheon's property somewhat fast, knowing his own home was just beyond it, Robb didn't see the beast until the last second.

The red blur with claws made Robb's eyes widen and his foot slam on the brake, he fishtailed as the creature leaped on the hood to escape death. It slid and rolled off as Robb's car carried the screaming man right into the large tree on the corner. Cat always warns her children to wear their seat belts and they always roll their eyes as they obey. Robb was too tired to care about his mother's endless warnings tonight and he wouldn't have to answer to her for it luckily. His body was laying across the hood where the creature had clung. As for the creature, it was keening loud and high in agony, sprinting away from a family and home it can't ever return to.

 

Alyn nearly sobbed with relief as they found the small old loggers road. "Keep going, don't get all relieved yet. Come on, we haven't heard Skinner scream in a bit. That thing is coming for us, we can't rely on an old empty road to stop it. This thing has been going into yards and showing itself during the day in front of humans before. A dirt road won't make it pause." All of a sudden, Alyn gave a small jig of joy and grabbed Damon's large arm. "Listen, remember that fat guy that hangs out with Jon! Sam, I think? He and his girl own a cabin up here, I helped them build the porch on it! It's not far from here, just around the next bend in the road."

Damon saw the small cabin, only the kitchen light was burning dimly, the other small windows all dark. He stopped short and cocked his head. "Wait, let's not rush up and-" Alyn rushed past Damon as a howl sounded not far at all and he pounded on the door. "Please! Sam, Gilly, it's Alyn! We need help out here, let us in, please! Call the sheriff and let us in, hurry! Hello?" The door opened and Alyn rushed in. He stopped dead at seeing Sam holding his tiny son in one hand and a gun in the other. Sam yelled in a very deep voice that he wasn't used to using. "HURRY UP AND SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR! ARE YOU TRYING TO LET THE WEREWOLVES IN, MAN?"

Sam watched as Damon and Alyn barricaded the door. "Gilly told me all of it earlier today. I...I am dense sometimes but I'm not stupid. I noticed Gilly's behavior, all the girls were behaving off. And Gilly was missing with no reason why on and off this last week. She comes back and has scratches, bruises and just seems...wrong. I asked but she wouldn't give me an answer until today. Little Sam kept crying and wouldn't calm down. Gilly lost her temper and smashed her fist into the wall, almost through it actually. So she cried and told me. Then she smashed our phones and left. Gilly said that tonight it would not be safe for me to leave the cabin or to put my gun down. That tomorrow I should take our son and leave forever."

Damon sat down after grabbing a beer for each of them from Sam's fridge. "How many are there?" Sam shrugged. "Gilly mentioned Ygritte, Sansa, Jeyne and Yara Greyjoy. She said there were more before and new ones might have been made by now. She just knows that they are unable to control it once they contract the disease. Bite or scratch and it's all it takes for them to turn furry. But the girls aren't stable with it, that is all I know. Oh god, they will kill my poor Gilly, won't they? There has to be a way to save her. To save the girls." Alyn turned to Sam with anger and disbelief on his face as he patrolled the covered windows.

"Are you crazy? Save the girls? Save the girls that have brutally murdered my friend and your best friend? Really, Sam? Love really does make folks fucked up." Damon told Alyn to back off and then they heard two howls nearby. For the next hour they all listened tensely to the werewolves howl and scratch at the wood as if to taunt the men inside. "The only reason Gilly isn't eating you right now is because of that boy. If she gets close enough to a window to peek inside, make sure that Gilly sees that little son of hers. It might be the only thing to keep us alive tonight." Damon advised grimly.

 


	16. Three Degrees Of Worse

Hot Pie had walked over to the sneering men, trying hard to look brave, failing miserably and knowing it. "Don't burn my uncle's place down. I'm right here." Polliver and Tickler laughed as they started to circle him. Hot Pie tried to keep both of them in his sight, turning slowly around as they did. Polliver started to speak and Hot Pie jumped, shaking harder. That made the bald man start to poke at the heavy set boy, making him squeal in terror as he tried to move away.   

"Look at how that fat shakes, look at those fucking sweat stains on his shirt, Tickler! A fucking disgrace, little coward, get the fuck over here! Where the hell do you plan on spinning and jumping to? Let me tell you something, Piggy. I understand those other little punks, they don't know us, they don't know what fuckery they made for themselves. But you...you DID know. I thought we established our special relationship with you years ago. Did you forget? You forgot who and what you were, is that it? With your buddies and decided to get all brave unlike the scared little Piggy you are? That is just fucking rude and disrespectful to me, boy. It's not acceptable. So let's make sure we give you a reminder you won't forget next time, yeah?"

A fist slammed into Hot Pie's cheek and another into the back of his neck from an even harder fist. Then he was on the ground, eating leaves and dirt as boots kicked him. Hot Pie squirmed in pain then found himself grabbed roughly and flipped over. He saw Tickler's wide mean grin as the man pinned his wrists into the ground. Polliver landed on him hard, digging his knees into Hot Pie's thighs as he screamed in pain. Reaching into his pocket, Polliver pulled out his switchblade and yanked up Hot Pie's shirt. As the blade sank carefully but quickly into the immense stomach, Hot Pie screamed higher and louder.  

 

Arya gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut as she climbed upwards as fast as her burning hands allowed. Hot Pie's screams and her friends panicked breathing faded away as she tried to use her brain. We are panicking and making all the wrong decisions. That is what they want us to do, that is why they threw firecrackers at us but didn't hit us with them. Just sent them at us to move us like the panicking idiots we are. I need to gain control of myself and the other two if we want to save Hot Pie and ourselves. These adults are mainly trying to scare us, make us run around and maybe hurt us a little bit. Surely, they aren't truly killing or injuring Hot Pie, Arya is positive of this. Yep.

Digging out her phone with a sudden brilliant clarity that makes her hate her dull brain, Arya struggled to turn it on while climbing. Gendry turned his head to her with alarm. "No! Don't call the fucking cops! I can't afford that!" "I'm not! Just like with Damon the other day, if I show them I am filming, they will stop!" Arya got the phone on and then there was a sharp burning pain lancing her hand. Staring in horror at the thin blade sticking out of her hand, Arya noticed her phone slipping away down the ravine. Shitmouth hollered with joy at hitting his target and then hollered loud enough to make them all wince.

"LITTLE ASSHOLES WITH YOUR FUCKING SNOWFLAKE MEDIA BULLSHIT! THAT AIN'T PLAYING FAIR AND SHITMOUTH THE CLOWN IS HERE TO INFORM YOU THAT NO ONE IS USING ANY PHONES IN THIS GAME! YOU DON'T WANT TO WEAR MORE OF MY JUGGLING GEAR THEN I BETTER SEE THOSE PHONES FALLING!" Lommy and Gendry dumped their phones, cursing as Arya ignored the bleeding, pulling the thin blade out. "Well now I have no phone, a hole in my palm but I got a new blade out of it." Arya tried to smile at her friends but they all just continued to climb up, finally pulling over the edge.

They ran forward and then skidded to a halt just as Tickler saw them and got up to stand before Polliver. Arya, Gendry and Lommy couldn't think at all for a moment. Arya's clever thoughts, her bravest thoughts, all just shattered along with her sense of what the world was. All the rules were broken by seeing three adults, young ones like Robb, granted, but adults, cutting into a teenager. Ramsay and his boys have tangled with Arya and her friends before. They lost to them badly, forced on a humiliation hunt, all of them crying at the end of it. Arya and her friends have dealt with bullies within their school. They have equally won and lost as a group.

There was never a comparison for this. They have chased them, burnt a truck and a bike, stabbed her and that was bad enough. But this? And the kids knew then it was way beyond their control. This was beyond anything they knew how to handle and it was too late to know it now. So Arya clutched her blade and Lommy dug out his gun while Gendry grabbed some large rocks.Tickler stood still once Lommy pointed the gun at him but he peered at the gun and grinned. "Is..is that duct tape? Holy shit, boy! You shoot that thing, it might kill you instead of me." But he stayed still, looking more amused than nervous.

 

As soon as Tickler stood up and Hot Pie's hands were free, he tried to struggle. Polliver grabbed his throat and squeezed while continuing his bloody work. "If you fucking move, I will gut you." The growled threat was sincere and Hot Pie remained still, trying to breathe through Polliver's tight grip. Polliver was ignoring the others and muttered, "Almost done. Fucking baby about everything aren't you? That's why your buddies came back, you screaming like a little bitch over such a small thing." Hot Pie offered a strangled cry of denial that it was being a baby to scream when carved into with a blade. "There. All done and it looks perfect on you, buddy. Good thing I had such a large canvas considering it was my first time spelling such a long word."

Polliver stood up and yanked Hot Pie to his feet with minor difficulty. "God! Lose some fucking weight, boy! We should have christened you Hog instead of Piggy! Here, show your friends your new reminder! Let them see you are alive and just given a little redecorating!" Arya gasped when she saw Hot Pie pulled in front of Polliver, who held the boy's shirt up for all to see his bloody stomach. The deep letters carved into PIGGY across his entire abdomen. Gendry looked sad and sick but Lommy's eyes burned with shock and hatred. "Why? Why would you do something so fucking sick to him? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Polliver looked over at the hate filled hiss and smirked at Lommy. His eyes landed upon the gun and he tilted his head. "Boy, are you truly pointing a gun at my friend? And is that a duct taped gun? Tsk, tsk." Yanking Hot Pie's head up by a fist in his hair, Polliver stared at him for a moment. "Your friends are SO stupid. Piggy, you even fail at picking good friends. These punks are the dumbest things I have ever seen. They just don't get it, do they? That's okay, Piggy. I don't mind educating them." Hot Pie tried to say something and Polliver stamped hard on his foot.

Lommy yelled, holding the gun with shaking hands. "Stop it! Stop fucking hurting him! Let him go! We just want to fucking go home! That's all! I don't want to shoot you but I will if I have to!" Tickler gave a small snort of laughter as Polliver rolled his eyes and gave a long suffering sigh. "Okay, fine. You want to play it out, let's play it out." Polliver yanked Hot Pie against him and held his blade against his neck. "Now, if you shoot me or my friends, I'm going to slice Piggy's neck. So...now what, little boy?"  Gendry heard a gentle whisper right behind his right ear. "Hiya, handsome fella!"

"GAAH!" Gendry jumped and staggered away from the clown that couldn't have gotten there that quickly. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?"  Shitmouth cavorted with his cleavers and jauntily winked at the harassed teenager."WHAT AM I? I AM A CLOWN, YOU FUCKING IMBECILE, YOU MUSCLE BOUND MORON! I AM A CLOWN AND CLOWNS ARE FUCKING MAGIC, YOU DINGLE BERRY FROM SATAN'S SYPHILITIC ASSHOLE!" Arya stared at the clown and tried to decide which dangerous thing to watch or fight.

When Gendry cried out and jumped, Lommy was too high wired, his finger was already on the trigger. The gun went off and Tickler threw himself to the side just in time. Blistering hot and smoking, the gun was suddenly like a poisonous snake that Lommy couldn't get rid of fast enough. He cradled his burning and sore fingers as the gun lay in front of him. "I didn't mean to do that!" His voice was too high but it was clear.

 

Hot Pie moaned as he felt Polliver's rage and shock pour through him, out his pores and all over. Polliver's voice was way too calm and from the past, Hot Pie knew it was a very bad sign. "You didn't mean it? Oh, well that makes it all hunky dory then. Are you fucking kidding me? I mean, how stupid are you little punks anyway? You must be really fucking stupid. Don't you understand who you are dealing with? Can't you see that you just keep making it worse for yourselves? I almost feel bad for the lessons you're going to have to learn." 

Tickler started forward slowly, while the clown circled from behind and Polliver threw Hot Pie hard to the ground. He stepped hard on the bloody stomach until the boy squealed. "You stay the fuck here. If you run or try to help them, I will gut you like a fucking hog and leave you hanging upside down for the hunters to find. Then I'll burn down your uncle's gym and his fucking house." Polliver gave a hard kick to Hot Pie's thigh, causing him to curl up in agony before turning to join the others in stalking their victims.

"Let's see. I say, we break some bones on the big one until he screams for his mommy and daddy. The girl we can rape and maybe a good beating too. Now the stupidest one of all, the little idiot, I say we light some fireworks in his ass and mouth, for starters. We all know that is Tickler's favorite game." Tickler smiled at his friend and said with feeling, "You get me."

 

Lommy stared wildly at his friends and whispered, "I only had one bullet. I still have a blade but that's all. We have to fight and run if we can. I'm so sorry, guys." Arya and Gendry muttered for him not to be sorry, just to ready to fight for their lives. Gendry got ready to race at the clown while Lommy and Arya faced the other two with their small blades. Laughing with malice and delight, both men came forward with their own blades.

Only Hot Pie was not involved, he was laying in the spot he was thrown in. He was trying to use his shirt to stop the worst of the bleeding and watching the coming clash when something made him screech. It gave them all pause as Shitmouth asked, "Did that flesh pudding just yell about a werewolf?"

Polliver gave another put upon sigh and turned to narrow his eyes at Hot Pie who was on his knees now, pointing behind them. "What the fuck are you hollering about, Piggy! I am busy here and you are being rude!" The rest of them turned to look where Hot Pie was pointing but saw nothing there. Tickler was about to say something but that is when a huge furry blur came streaking past them all.

It flew past the men and caused Polliver to fall on his ass in panic, Tickler to scream and Shitmouth took off running. Lommy was right behind the clown, he finally found something even scarier than the fucking clown.


	17. Shacking Up For The Night

Alyn had a captive audience and took full advantage of it. Damon has heard it all a million times before and refuses to admit that Alyn was right, even if proof was in his face. Sam's eyes got rounder and rounder as Alyn expounded on his belief of the supernatural and murderous nature of their town. Damon narrowed his eyes as he went around to look out all the windows again. "One of the wolves is missing. Huh. Maybe the other will take off soon too. We can get some sleep until morning then hightail it out of here in Sam's jeep." Damon might as well have spoken to the dozing toddler.

Alyn was busy scaring the hell out of Sam with his earnest beliefs.   

"Sam, I mean I know it's a well known big joke in town that we are haunted but I really think we are cursed or something. Not us but the town is cursed. Or is maybe a magnet for the strange and fucked up, right? Every fall season we have a high death toll, a high missing persons toll, every single year. It's different each time! And each time our officials try to hide it, they cover it all up. But we have had werewolves before, we have had vampires and serial killers that I fully believe were possessed! All at my house I have tons of evidence, all my research proves what I say. But even if we get out of here alive tonight, it won't matter. Roose will make us all shut up and if we don't, we will go missing too."

Damon rolled his eyes and grunted that Alyn was being a little over dramatic. Then he paused and peered out the window again. "I swear I just heard gun shots! Coming from the direction of that old water tower. Fuck, I wonder who else was dumb enough to be caught out here tonight?" Sam suddenly stood up, jarring his sleeping son. "Oh no...Jon's little sister and her friends. They think it's a huge secret that they hang out up there. It's probably them!" Alyn looked ill then shook his head. "Nah, it can't be those punks. Damon said he heard gunshots. Why would a bunch of teens carry around a gun? It must be another hunter. Has to be."

 

Lommy flew after the fucking clown and he could hear the werewolf snarling just behind him. He put on another burst of speed and then he watched Shitmouth the clown suddenly head for a steep part of the ravine and just was...gone. "NO!" Lommy stopped dead, nearly falling over before gaining his balance. Seeing the trick up close now, he shook his fist and screamed out, "DAMN FUCKING CHEATING ASS CLOWN!" In the steepest yet closest area to the ravine that leads to the old logger road, it wasn't climbable. However, there was a narrow ladder that was temporarily installed and Shitmouth wasn't even using the rungs. He grabbed the sides and slid the fuck down, his face was blind terror.

What's wrong, Shitmouth? Scared of werewolves? Lommy thought as the werewolf caught him in the meaty part of his thigh. There wasn't enough time for Lommy to try and go down the ladder. The beast was right behind him and Lommy just fell down, scared nearly to a faint. The pain when it bit deep into his leg was enough to bring the world back into sharp lines. He screeched as the thing shook him by the leg and the gun shots Lommy heard seemed very unimportant.

 

Polliver had sat there numb for a moment, his world had no room for werewolves. It was taking his brain a bit to catch up with the new reality and that is why he was just staring stupidly up at Piggy. The boy was not where he was told to stay, he was grabbing and shaking Polliver's arm, screaming something. I really have to do something about this kid's rudeness. Are these punks such a terrible influence on the fat boy that he was daring to try and challenge him? The words being screamed into his face suddenly came in loud and clear.

"SHOOT IT! YOUR GUN! POLLIVER, USE YOUR GUN AND SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!" Shoving the boy away, Polliver stood up and fumbled out his gun, seeing Tickler taking out his own hand piece and chasing after the others. "Fucking idiots, if you all run at the damned thing, how am I shooting it?" Polliver growled and ran forward, trying to see the beast past the freaked prey chasing it. "It's all fucking backwards. We are all chasing a fucking werewolf instead of it chasing us. Makes for better odds though." "Shut the fuck up, Piggy. What the hell are you gonna do? You are the biggest bait here, aren't you? I'll keep that in mind." They heard Lommy scream and Tickler fired his gun.

Polliver saw that Tickler missed but the beast released it's grip on Lommy's bloody leg and was rushing the man who shot at it. Taking careful aim, Polliver shot just as the beast took a high jump to land upon Tickler. Arya and Gendry cheered fiercely as the wolf jerked with the impact and it stumbled to a halt just before Tickler, who had fallen back in terror, still holding his gun. He tried to take aim as did Polliver and the beast roared then ran into the foliage and shadows. "It's only wounded, not dead. It's going to come back, it's going to circle for a better attack." Hot Pie's voice sounded sure enough that all believed him without any trouble.

 

A howl too close for comfort, causing Polliver and Tickler to shoot in the direction of it, was answered by another howl not far off. Gendry and Arya got Lommy standing between them. It was clear that Lommy couldn't walk, his leg was too torn up and Hot Pie chewed his lip. "The shack. We can barricade ourselves in." Tickler snorted and started to quickly head for the pitiful little cabin, holding his gun out at the ready. "Okay, as repulsive as it sounds, let's all hide in there for now." As the group headed for the shack, the wolf sounded again. So close and then the more distant howl and to their horror, a third howl came from another direction.

"Oh shit, there's three of them." Gendry muttered as he nearly dragged Lommy faster. Arya screamed just as a different wolf, this one also seemed injured but just as deadly, landed on her. It's snarling wet teeth were nearly in her face, she had no idea how she got on the ground, then it was all chaos. Gendry had dropped Lommy to hit the beast with a large fist to push it's gnashing snout out of Arya's face. The wolf growled and tensed to attack Gendry when Polliver began to shoot at it, yelling. Arya couldn't tell if it was shot or not, it just flew off and away.

Tickler grabbed Lommy by his waist and half carried, half dragged him into the shack. He threw the kid into the room and then watched as Hot Pie, Arya and Polliver ran in too. Gendry was right behind Polliver but then there was a terrible snarling. The boy screamed as the wolf began to drag him off. Polliver and Tickler tried to shoot but only produced dry clicks, they have used up all their bullets. With a cry of despair, Hot Pie tried to grab at Gendry's hands, pulling him, Arya joined in the effort. "Ah fuck me!" Tickler screamed as the second wolf came slinking back and started to bite into Gendry's torso.

 

Polliver made a sound of frustration as he pulled Tickler back into the shack. "No! Look, the boy is already almost dead, nothing you can do! Idiots! He is already dead, look!" Hot Pie and Arya heard the gristly sounds as they pulled, they looked in revolted shock as Gendry's body seemed to split in two. Polliver grabbed then each by their hair and dragged them into the room fast. Tickler slammed the door shut just as one of the beasts lunged for them. The door shuddered hard and Tickler screamed, "Help me barricade this fucking thing! Hurry up! Cry over your buddy later or go out there and join him, or shut the fuck up and help me!"

Polliver kicked at the kids and ran to help Tickler with the door. "Morons, block that fucking window, be useful or I swear I'll use you as bait for those fucking hell beasts!" Arya grabbed some old boards and Hot Pie rummaged until he found the old tool box and got out hammer and nails, all rusted over. Just as the red fur and glowing eyes appeared in the old smeared window, Arya slammed the first board over it. Hot Pie hammered clumsily but Arya didn't yell at him. She stared at the eyes staring back at her from the window. Until it was all covered in wood, she stared into her sister's eyes.

"It's my sister. That wolf had Sansa's eyes. My sister is trying to eat me, my sister just killed my friend." "Well, I am so sorry to hear all that, sweetheart. But I don't give a fuck if one of them is our own fucking mayor, don't have a freak out now. I won't save your ass anymore, hear me? You pull it together because if you go all hysterical on me, I'll have no trouble throwing you out there for their next course!" Arya glared at Polliver and sneered at him coldly. "I am not becoming hysterical." Hot Pie pulled at her. "Help me take care of Lommy, his leg is really messed up. Don't start arguing, please? We have bigger issues and we have to share this space for now, okay?"

 

Gregor stared at his fist then at the demolished table. Silence hung heavily as Sandor panted, Unella crawled out from under the wood that landed on her. The silence was broken by the sound of howls in the air just past their home which borders the woods. "Earlier every year." Sandor muttered out of reflex and he nearly jumped out of his own skin when Gregor moved. The gigantic man took only one step towards his wife when she acted in a manner that shocked all of them.

Unella is perhaps the epitome of the abused woman but she was never one to beg for mercy or grovel. Not unless Gregor has beat her badly enough for it and rarely did he feel that need. Most of them time Unella is silent, obedient and serious in nature. Though she was submissive to her husband, the woman was formidable and strong in her own way. It was the only way that Gregor hasn't ended up killing her or truly maimed her along their years together of forced marriage.

He would never have tolerated dramatics nor a wife so timid that she cried every time he went near her. That described most females that Gregor ended up attacking, raping and burying in the woods. Unella is as aware of Gregor's unfortunate girls as much as Sandor is. Gregor knew that Unella understood how he wished for her to act and that was always what she did. Now Unella is on her knees, groveling, cowering, her shaking hands clutching rather timidly at Gregor's pant leg.

"Gregor, if you hit us, hit me, it might kill me! Look at the table from just one strike of your fist! Please, husband, I never beg you for mercy. You know I wouldn't dare upset you on purpose." The shriek of cell phones added to the howling and Unella's terrified sobbing voice. Gregor frowned mightily and growled out, "Who is calling both of you on your cell phones? Did you also make friends and plans for spending more of my money?" Sandor and Unella both shook their heads frantically.

 

Gregor gestured for Sandor to answer his phone and he growled threateningly when Unella flinched. With one large gray hand, Gregor pulled Unella up to her feet and he shook her easily. "Knock it off. I am not dead, get over it. For someone who is concerned at how strong my fists are, you aren't helping yourself by irritating me. Pull yourself together or I'll test out my strength on you right now." Unella bit her lip and kept her eyes low, giving only a quick nod. She wiped her eyes and stayed still in Gregor's bruising grasp.

Gregor wasn't surprised when his little brother held out the phone to him after simply listening, saying nothing more than hello. After harshly greeting the person on the phone, Gregor snapped out, "No, I am NOT DEAD! It's our weekend off, I told you that. How many dead and missing? I don't really care. No, I have family issues to see to. We shall start tomorrow afternoon, no sooner. Double pay for the early start." Unella and Sandor gave each other a look of relief. They were called for their special work early and that might just have saved them from Gregor's wrath at least temporarily.

Tossing the phone back to Sandor, Gregor made a frustrated sound then tossed Unella aside like a rag doll. "You are both so very lucky. Can't risk having you fucking pussies too injured to work. Little brother, remove this table, get old pieces from the barn and build a new one. You don't go to bed and sleep until there is a table in this kitchen, hear me? Wife, head upstairs. Since you look so damned nice today, you went through my money to do it, I guess I might as well enjoy it." Unella shivered and walked up the stairs on unsteady legs.


	18. Pulsing Lights

Howling, scratching and thudding continued, the beasts even leaped upon the roof of the shack. They all listened in silence as nails scrabbled frantically over their heads. Polliver left his phone in the truck and Tickler had no battery left. "Fuck! What about you three?" Arya looked up from staunching the blood in Lommy's leg to give them a dirty look. "No! Your asshole clown friend stabbed me and told us to drop our phones!" Tickler growled as he paced. "Don't give me fucking attitude, bitch. Want me to let your sister eat you? Shut the fuck up, stupid little punks. Wouldn't be out here if you didn't have to be such little fucking shits."

Lommy gave a shout of laughter, his eyes bulging while Hot Pie hurried to latch his belt tightly around the bandaged wound. "Are you fucking joking? YOU blame US? You fucking chased us, you...you-FUCK YOU!" Tickler ran forward fast and kicked Lommy hard in his wounded leg. Lommy howled and Tickler glared at him with eyes that were still too panicked. "Shut the fuck up, I could've let it eat you! Wasted my bullets over a stupid piece of shit like you! Arrgh!" Polliver pulled his friend away a bit and rubbed the tense heaving shoulders. "Hey, pull it together, man. Let's concentrate on keeping safe in here for you and me. We can hurt them later on but right now I need you to focus."

Tickler nodded and wiped the sweat off his face. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. I'm good, I'm fine." Polliver handed him a water bottle from the stash the kids had. "Here, have a drink and stay calm." Hot Pie looked up at Polliver as he loomed over him. "Piggy, tell your buddies that they need to learn much faster. Tell them to keep their mouths shut and be helpful or stay the fuck out of the way. That if they do anything but those things, I will make them regret it. Goes for you too, Piggy. Got it? Sure you do." Hot Pie understood and nodded. After Polliver walked over to Tickler, Hot Pie whispered to his friends. "We are trapped in a shack with two very violent men, surrounded by werewolves. If you pick a fight, it could be any of the above that tear you to shreds."

 

As she read the terrible text from her nephew Bran about Ned's death, Lysa was already halfway out the door. 

Lysa hated her family. She hated her sister for being pretty and popular. She hated her parents for giving Cat everything just because they loved her more. Lysa had one shining star in her life and that was her son. It was the only thing her old husband ever gave her that pleased her. Lysa hated her arranged marriage to an older man while Cat got a young powerful husband. And Lysa was jealous that with great ease her sister had a sudden platoon of children. Lysa was only able to have Robin and it nearly killed them both. The doctor warned the couple against trying to have more children and gave Lysa a hysterectomy right after birth, only asking Jon's permission to do so.

Lysa had a better solution and never allowed her husband in her bed again. She already had her baby nursing upon her bosom as she slept, there was no room for Jon. When Lysa poisoned her husband she felt no guilt, just relief when he died and she wasn't caught. Being a widow suited her and being a mother was her entire reason for life. Robin was such a blessing, he was Lysa's one shining thing in a shitty bitter world and so she clung tight. Too tight and she knew it but couldn't help it. Lysa breastfed the boy until he was almost six.

Now Lysa raced towards her sister's home, trying to find a tone that will sound sympathetic and supportive to Cat. But all that she really could think was how horrible that dear Robin must be there! Her innocent, young son will not understand the grief in his aunt or cousins and Lysa need to go rescue him. She was silently gloating, of course. It was nice to see her sister have to go through bitterness for once. The woman saw too many different vehicles crowding the roads leading to both the Stark and Baratheon homes. Emergency vehicles and the flashing lights were blinding.

She almost skidded right into the smoking wreckage near that damned tree that they really should be cut down. Then she found herself stalled, swearing, she looked over at the twisted wreck. Blinking, it took Lysa a moment to figure out she was staring at her own nephew's ruined face. Lysa cried out, fumbled with the car, unable to get it to start. "Oh, never mind!" She got out of the car and started to run towards the large house at the end of the street and the authorities milling around it. They clearly didn't see the car accident and must be told. Then Lysa was getting her son and going home where it was safe.

 

Shireen hugged Rickon tightly. "I texted my parents and told them I was on my way home. We don't live that far away, I will cut through the back yards. I'm leaving out the back way, no sense in bothering the adults, right? Are...are you going to be okay? Rickon? I'm sorry for not staying but Bran said it would be better for me and Robin to leave for a while." Rickon wiped his eyes again and nodded. "Yep. I am sad but I am going to be fine. Once the rest of my family gets here, I'll have plenty of company, don't worry." He forced a smile and Shireen returned it. 

Rickon and Robin watched her fly out the back door as they stood on the dark porch. Rickon was sick of lights, ever since Roose showed up at their door, all the lights were on. Their father would blow a gasket over that, the waste of so much light for no reason. Yeah, but he is dead now so I guess it doesn't matter. Rickon forced more tears back. But it did matter to him for some reason and the porch lights stayed off. Robin leaned against the railing and peered into the night, hearing distant howling. "Uh oh, I hope the werewolves don't get Shireen."

They heard a new sound from out front where the darkness turned into pulsing emergency lights. Robin groaned as he heard his mother's panicked squawking and Rickon grinned at first. Then he frowned when the next sounds were of a nature that Rickon couldn't understand. It took a moment before he understood that it was his mother screaming, wailing. Rickon leaned over the railing and threw up while Robin awkwardly rubbed his back. When Bran came to the back door in his chair, Rickon put his hands over his ears. "I don't want to know. Whatever made mom scream like that, don't tell me. Leave me alone."

Bran tried to coax Rickon inside to gently talk to him but his crazy aunt steamrolled right past him. "Robin, come to mommy, we need to go home. Uncle Ned and cousin Robb have died. Your female cousins have gone missing and who knows what has happened to that other boy. The family must grieve and we must go be safer than them. Come now, dear. Rickon, Bran, we are very sorry for your losses. Take care of your mother and please try to keep yourselves safe!" Robin protested as his mother dragged him away.

 

Rickon would never admit that he allowed his brother to hold him on his lap while he sobbed like a baby. Bran would never admit that he cried into his little brother's hair as he hugged him like a damned teddy bear for comfort. Bran was the one who thought to tell the kids to go home. He was the one that made sure Rickon was alright. Once his little brother was calmer, he tucked him on the couch with a remote control and left him to the electronic comforts to numb the world. Bran checked on his mother who was sitting still on her bed now. 

Too many other issues happening in town for the authorities to stay in one place, it seemed. Bran said that to his mother but she only blinked at him then tilted her head. "Did you hear from Arya or Sansa yet? Have you tried to call them again? I keep trying and Roose said they are looking..." Bran rolled into the room and petted her cold hand. "No, I tried and I will keep trying. I am sure they are fine, mom. Maybe you should sleep for a bit while you can? I...I think tomorrow is going to be very busy..." Cat's eyes filled with tears and her lips quivered. "They won't let me see Robb or your father's bodies. They...they should let me..."

Gently, Bran asked, "Uh...mom? Has anyone heard from Jon? Is he okay? He went into the woods to hunt for the wolves." Cat sucked her breath in hard and grabbed her own face then started to sob. "No, I forgot...oh god...call him! Try to call him, please."


	19. Almost Hopes

When Gregor was finally sated and lay like the dead thing he was, Unella staggered out of the bed and to the bathroom. Wincing as she used the toilet, Unella wasn't a bit surprised to find blood in her urine. It didn't concern her too much, this wasn't the first time Gregor has made Unella piss blood. She couldn't stop the shaking no matter how hard she tried. Just getting some toilet paper and wiping took way longer than it should have. Between the colorful bruising on her chest, thighs and back plus this damned tremor, Unella was in pain,yes, sure, but pain wasn't new for her. No, this was true, mortal fear and that made her feel weak. 

No matter what has happened to Unella, weakness was never an option. Unella refused her entire life to be weak or to do any less than endure anything, surviving at all costs. She sort of saw herself as a middle finger, telling the world to fuck itself, just refusing to give up no matter how much she must take. Unella has always done her duty, carried her responsibilities and never shied from the harder things. This shaking will not do and Unella turns on the shower as hot as she can bear it. With a stifled whimper, Unella got under the spray and tried to stop shaking as she scrubbed herself without mercy.

Gregor wasn't the gentle lover by any means. He never was but at least he was human before, alive and breathing. Those black eyes held nothing, just empty space to reflect Unella back at herself, it was awful. Worse was how cold he was, never mind that he was stronger and bruising her when he wasn't even trying to. The cold that was the worst because it was cold, dead flesh sliding, pressing, thrusting against her and it was all Unella could do not to try to squirm away. Gregor had something pumping, a spark in there somewhere, Unella assured herself of that, as she scrubbed herself madly and turned the water even hotter.

Because Gregor was hard as a rock and Unella did feel cold breath that smelled like the grave on her face. Sobbing, hanging her head against the slick wet tiles, Unella shook harder. He was COLD inside her, it made her scream, wail and that made Gregor more excited. It was awful, it went on forever and Unella didn't care about pain or tearing. She cared that freezing deceased flesh was inside her body and when he finally shuddered to a halt...something spilled deep in her body. A dead man's dead sperm or some evil zombie seed? Unella vomited then frantically washed herself and the tub, trying so hard to stop shaking. For the first time, Unella felt gratitude to husband for making her sterile.

 

Shitmouth only ran faster when he heard the kid scream and then gunshots. He was running down the logger road towards the area where he hid his car when he heard another howling. This one came from the direction he was running in. Fuck it and Shitmouth headed into the trees, seeing a dim light up ahead. He nearly cried with delight when he saw a small cabin. That is when he heard rustling and a much closer snarl. "Ahh fuck! HELP, IN THE HOUSE, HELP ME, PLEASE, LET ME IN!"

With a last burst of speed, the clown flew up the porch steps, slammed against hte door and started to bang on it, screaming. This new beast, brown and furry was slinking towards the clown, taking it's time. The door suddenly opened and Shitmouth rushed in as the beast came roaring up onto the porch. The door was slammed shut just as the beast hit into it, shaking the wood. "Thank you, thank you, you fucking saved my life! Do you have a phone? We need to cal the fucking animal control officer and have him kill those fucking things! Maybe call a priest or get a silver bullet or something. What the fuck kind of fuckery is this? Werewolves? Fuck me, don't need this shit."  

Damon shook his head while Sam and Alyn just stared at the bizarre clown. "I AM the animal control officer and guess what, I had NO fucking idea that werewolf slayer was a must. What the fuck are you? Starting a little early aren't you? Why the hell are you running around like that in the woods?" Shitmouth shrugged and yelled, "Who gives a fuck who or what I am doing...call the fucking hunters association or something or a fucking priest! You are animal control? What the fuck have you been controlling, your cock? Because man, you have fucking werewolves running around and all you care about is a clown? Call for help!" Sam worried that Damon was about to fight with this strange clown. "We have no phones. We are stuck here until morning."

Alyn was looking out the window and his ear was nearly pressed against it. He watched the beast circle the house once then head off towards the water tower. "I can hear screaming. And there were gunshots. Who else were you with?" Shitmouth sat hard in a chair and slumped his shoulders. "Polliver and Tickler are still at the water tower. We were just harassing some little punk kids, only meant to rough them up a bit, give them a good scare. Raff didn't want us doing anymore than that without his say so. Then the fucking werewolf came out of nowhere and I just ran for it. By now they are either dead or hiding in that shack."

Alyn and Sam's eyes widened and Damon groaned. "Fucking little punks ..let me guess, the kids from the fair." Alyn gave the clown a look of disgust. Sam stood up and went to get his flannel jacket. "They are just kids. Watch little Sam for me, okay?" Damon and Alyn gave Sam a long suffering look as they put on their jackets and reloaded their rifles. "Fine, fine. They are probably all dead and we will be too. Sit the fuck down, asshole. Not letting you leave your kid so your girlfriend can maul you to death. Alyn and I are not heroes, got it? If it is too dangerous to reach them, we are coming right the fuck back. Hopefully."

 

After the hot water ran out, Unella got out of the shower. Another rule broken, wasting all the hot water and Unella discovered dully that she didn't give a flying fuck. She dried off carefully, hitching breaths and smothering cries of pain. Still shaking but less, but Unella was freezing inside. Putting on her thick robe, Unella went into the medicine cabinet and took out two bottles, staring at them. One was a muscle relaxant and the other painkiller. From the last time that Gregor sent her to the hospital. Unella had been on crutches for sometime after and had to use a catheter to release pink urine into a bag taped to her leg.

She took one of each and crushed them in her mouth, there was no time for waiting until they kicked in. Unella carefully slipped out of the bathroom and saw that Gregor's awful eyes were closed. His massive gray body seemed to lay there, as if he died after having sex. She tip toed over to him with a dreadful fascination as the dreamy warm feeling came from the pills. Finally, her body seemed to warm a little from the narcotics. But Unella wasn't interesting in picking up an addiction, she had enough issues in her life. There was only one way for her to truly ever not feel cold like that ever again.

Unella leaned close and saw the chest didn't rise but maybe the slightest and even that could be a trick of the moonlight. She wasn't brave enough to press her hand on Gregor's chest to feel for a heartbeat. After all, Unella was plenty close to her husband just a bit ago and in the past there were sure signs of life from him. He was someone who sweats, who snarls, pants hot air, his heart would beat hard enough to make his veins pulse with enough strength to see them bulge. Tonight Gregor remained cold, dry and the air coming from him was freezing. The man was dead, Unella was just raped by her dead husband.

For one horrific moment, Unella gagged and almost threw up on Gregor. Whether he was sleeping or just resting dead, he was sure to rise upon feeling vomit land on him. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and got control over her gag reflex. Then she opened her eyes, half expecting Gregor to have those black eyes pinned on her. He was still dead, eyes still shut and Unella silently went downstairs. She couldn't stand the thought of trying to spend the night next to that cold body.

 

The wolves kept making sounds as if they were searching for a way in and it was maddening. Polliver snorted some more coke, sharing with Tickler as they paced the shack. Arya and Hot Pie stayed on either side of Lommy, only speaking with him and each other softly. Tickler began to stare at Lommy as the drugs worked through his system and he was scaring them with his intensity. The man pointed a finger and spoke to Polliver, still keeping his eyes pinned on the wounded boy.

"We should toss him outside to them. That way if he turns, he won't slaughter us. And if he doesn't turn werewolf in time, it gives them out there something to fill up on and leave." Arya glared at Tickler and shook her head. "Lommy isn't turning into a werewolf! He looks fine, he just needs his leg stitched up and the bone reset." Tickler gave the girl his attention now as he advances towards her.

"He was BIT in the LEG by a WEREWOLF! Unless you are a fucking expert on werewolves, shut the fuck up! We all know the same movie and book shit about werewolves, right? They get bit or scratched and they turn furry. I am NOT going to be murdered by that little arrogant prick! We only have knives and our running feet, in a tiny shack? We stand no chance if he turns. I say throw the shithead outside."

Polliver seemed to be considering Tickler's words and Hot Pie pleaded carefully.  "Please, I can tie him up if you want until we are sure he is safe! He is just an injured teenager!" Ear splitting howls sounded again from above and around them and Tickler started to howl back angrily. "Dude, snorted a bit too much under tense circumstances." No one appreciated Polliver's comment more than Hot Pie. It meant the man was going to be use reason not panic for decisions.

That was until Arya opened her mouth and Hot Pie closed his eyes.

 

Sandor was in the kitchen, almost finished with the table. "Found just the right pieces. Aren't I fucking lucky? It's almost dawn soon. You should get some sleep while you can, I am going to bed the second this is done." Unella nodded but didn't move away, instead carefully sat herself on one of the kitchen chairs to stare at her brother in law. Sandor avoided eye contact with her as he hurried to finish the table. Unella's voice was hushed but clear. "He is dead."

"I know that. You know that. Gregor doesn't seem to know that. Maybe we can talk to that doctor? I mean...maybe Gregor just got up and walked out before treatment was finished and this is the result of that."  Unella was firm in her voice, even if her body still shook. "Gregor is dead. The doctor needs to finish the job or we have to. He is dead. I will put up with almost anything, Sandor. I have submitted to my husband and made a vow to do so until the day he died. That man I married is dead. I will not serve a dead husband, Sandor. I have limits too. He is undead and unclean. We must do what is needed to fix this."

Unella and Sandor stared at each other and then listened to the howling finally begin to fade away. Clearing his throat, tearing his eyes away from her, Sandor replied just as hushed but as rough as ever. "Unella...we have other things that will have to take priority. You know that, plus, how do you plan on burying him? I am way bigger than you and I wouldn't tangle with him when he was alive. Both of us will have to work together, think it through, plan it out. Okay? For now, I'm done and going to bed." 

Unella heard the fear in the gruff voice and she just nodded as Sandor went off to bed. But she sat wrapped in two blankets on the couch until the sun came up thinking of how to bury a dead man who doesn't know he is dead.


	20. Exploding Shit Way Up In Here

Damon and Alyn cautiously went out the door then started to signal to each other while listening for the remaining werewolf. Sam whipped the door back open causing both men to leap into the air. In a much too loud voice, Sam spoke to Alyn. "Hey! Remember last spring when you were up this way using dynamite to blow up those beaver dams? Gilly got really mad at you and took the rest of your dynamite!" Alyn gasped, "Gilly stole it? I went crazy looking for that!" Damon rolled his eyes. "Get to the fucking point. Beast must have headed back up to the water tower otherwise the way you are yelling, it would be here eating us while you were still shouting."  

Sam turned red then said in a lower voice but with urgency, "Gilly hid the dynamite under the porch you helped make. Maybe it can be useful? A diversion?" Alyn nodded and ran under the porch while mumbling about damned women. "Okay, thanks, buddy. Now stay inside and keep that boy of yours safe. And maybe keep the fucking clown away from him." Damon waited until Sam was inside before heading off the porch towards Alyn. "Got it. Sam is right, we can use this to maybe move or put a hurt on the werewolves. Remember the clown said he used a ladder? Let's find it."

With silent but wary speed, Damon and Alyn headed towards the road then over to the ravine. It took a bit but they found the ladder under it's camouflage of roots and leaves. A deep breath and clutching the dynamite, Damon climbed up the ladder with Alyn behind him.

 

Arya stood tall and stared down Tickler, ignoring Hot Pie's silent pleas to just sit down and shut up. "No one touches Lommy or me or Hot Pie. You stay on your side, we stay on ours. When the wolves leave, we can all go our separate ways." Tickler snarled and spit at Arya. "No slash tells me what I can and can't do. I should throw him out the door right now just to prove my fucking point." He moved as if to head for them and Arya yanked out her blade again, crouching, waiting. Polliver cleared his throat and Tickler stopped.

The bald man covered in tattoos, wearing heavy rings covered in Hot Pie's blood tried to smile reasonably at Arya. "Now girl, you are still not understanding things. Listen very, very carefully to me because it really might save your life. This thing, this ugly thing between all of us, I was being merciful, putting it on hold due to the fucking werewolves. I was saving your stupid fucking asses instead of kicking them. And without even a proper thank you! Rudeness and disrespect, can't fucking stand it. I'm doing the best I ever did, I haven't ever saved a punk I wanted to hurt before. That is fucking GALLANT of us, bitch. Ask Piggy, he will tell you that right now, I am trying very hard. See him nodding, honey? Yeah? Okay. SO. Give the knife to Piggy to give to me. Then you can thank us and apologize to us. If that is done right, I'll let you sit down and shut the fuck up for a bit longer."

Taking a deep breath, Arya shook her head. "No. I give you my knife and after a bit longer, what happens then? I can't trust you or Tickler around me without a weapon. And I don't understand why I should apologize but I do thank you for helping us get into the shack, for shooting at the wolf to save Lommy. So thank you." Tickler giggled and Hot Pie looked worried, very worried. Polliver carefully studied Arya as if she were a new species that defied full description. He spoke very clearly and slowly, making Tickler laugh harder.

"You are welcome, Arya. Thank you for that.  We do appreciate that you appreciate us. Now, why should you say you are sorry? Hmm? Name calling? Rudeness? Disrespect? Being little punk ass bitches, challenging us. We had no choice but to come at you, if we weren't here for you, I wouldn't have to know about fucking werewolves. So apologize for being an antagonizing cunt and the reason that we are in this fucking situation. Just say it and give Piggy the blade. Then you sit, quiet. You cannot keep that blade because I don't trust YOU not to lose your temper on us." 

Arya refused to back down, it was stupid, it was a lie and it was an outrage, she won't say those things. Fuck them. "No. You are adults threatening kids. It all comes down that. And then werewolves showed up and in the extreme situation, you were driven by a survival instinct to surround yourself with your own kind. And right now we have only two kinds. Wolf or fully human. Once that instinct starts to fade, you'll both want to hurt us, I am our only protection. All I am asking for is for us to stay on a truce until the werewolves have left. Can't we pick up the war in a day or two considering the circumstances?"

 Hot Pie groaned softly as Polliver's eyes went ice cold at the beginning of her speech. Tickler was grinning in a sickening sort of way and he crooned to Polliver, "Oh please...we have to teach this bitch." The man began bouncing in place as if an excited toddler pleading to go on a special ride. "We are stuck here all fucking night with these little fucking shits...and this one...let me start with this one. And you can be the one to throw Lommy out the door, you know you always get a kick out of riling up the fat boy! He's your best fucking comedy show, said so yourself before, when you get fucked up and we start telling our stories from our gym and tournament days."

Polliver wasn't listening to Tickler anymore than he was listening to Arya. Reasonable was over for him as soon as she challenged him. This night was already stressful and he simply never had much patience. The last therapist he saw and strangled had told Polliver he had a really bad patience issue. Another howling from at least three wolves was just enough for his last nerve to just snap. "I am out of offering options. I'm done trying to educate and going straight to good old fashion schoolin'. Tickler, she's all yours. Piggy, you can decide if I am tossing the boy out the door or if you are using this chain to hog tie him."

 

Damon was squirming upon his stomach through the high grass, sharp stones scraping through his shirt to draw beads of blood from his stomach and chest. Alyn had handed him the dynamite and lighter. He stayed behind a rock he can easily lean over and provide cover from. It was also very close to the ladder for a quick exit. Alyn was a better shot and Damon was faster in spite of his large frame. Damon was also better physically fit, Alyn loved his job as assistant town historian and his research obsessions keep him in a chair most of the time. 

They could see the werewolves, three of them around the shack. Trying to sniff, howl, circle, claw and dig frantically, leaping on the roof to howl and snarl, pissing, shitting as if to punish this shack. Something is going on inside of there and they are reacting to it. I have to hope it distracts them long enough for this stupid ass plan. Damon squirmed carefully until he found the perfect spot. The wolves started to attack the cabin window and door, raging worse and Damon's blood ran a bit cold. What the hell is going on inside the shack to make them react that way?

 

It all happened so fast that none of them would ever clearly recall it. Tickler rushed Arya without any preamble and she reacted fast. She managed one shallow cut across his face before the knife was gone. Her hand was numb but Arya instantly recalled herself and forced it into a fist, she needed both of them right now. Tickler laughed and he spread his arms. "Go for it, cunt. Let's see how good you fight. I'll give you a chance to start but I promise to finish it." Arya snarled and attacked. For a moment it seemed that she might actually win. Tickler had been a bit surprised at how good the girl was.

But it didn't last very long, Arya simply didn't have any coke fueled strength and vigor. He wore her down and then he beat her to the floor and announced to her, "Now for the second half of your lesson, you stupid little bitch." Arya only dimly heard the yelling from others and she never saw what was happening anywhere but with herself and Tickler. He pulled down his zipper and somehow it was loud enough to her and somehow more menacing then the howling and snarling that kept swelling louder from outside. No, that won't happen, that can't happen and Arya tried to kick him between his legs.

Tickler stomped down hard on Arya's stomach and she curled up, trying to breathe. The fingers, bruising, pinching, forcing her legs open, making her lay on her back, gasping like a fish out of water. Arya couldn't breathe enough to scream or fight. Her limbs were being manipulated, she felt her jeans and underwear roughly yanked down her legs. The air filled her lungs after the man was already beginning to thrust inside of her, pain, humiliation and violation hit harder, causing Arya to build up a scream.  And when the screech finally came out, it was louder than then the werewolves and it was full of outrage and pure vengeful, rightful fury.

It seemed to excite the beasts outside who got louder and were trying to force an entry again. No one cared, no one even noticed. Arya was trying to punch, bite, claw and kick while Tickler enjoyed the violence of the win. "Go on, bitch. Fight me, I love it. Like an angry little feral cat. Are you sorry for messing with us now? Or do you maybe like this, like me? Yeah...you just liked me and didn't know how to tell me you wanted a good fuck? Are you a virgin? Am I your first, baby? Scream, yeah, scream and pretend you aren't fucking sorry now."

Arya had no words, just this horrible thing happening and this rage that helped cleanse it before it could rot in her. She fought and no matter if he punched her back or never stopped his raping of her, she fought because to give in might kill her. At least inside, it would kill what made her Arya. Not acceptable. Then the world exploded and at first Arya wasn't sure if the explosion was in her head or in reality.

She decided it was real and not her sanity breaking when Tickler pulled out of her and stood up as chaos reigned outside. It was only as she yanked her jeans up, trying to understand what was happening that she even remembered her other two friends and their own tormentor.


	21. Outrage

For a second the three of them watched Arya kicking Tickler's ass and two of them were cheering. It switched and Polliver started to smile and Lommy stood up. Tickler had Arya down and was going to rape her, he couldn't sit through that. Hot Pie came forward too, as if the wounded punk and the stupid fat coward were going to save their friend. Polliver snarled and stood in their way, his eyes full of stress, fear, violence and the need to release this tension. For the two boys, they had thought their last nerve snapped when Tickler started to rape their friend. No, the last thing they could take before becoming irrational emotion warriors, was seeing, visibly seeing how Tickler's attacking Arya was affecting Polliver. If it weren't for Lommy and Hot Pie, Polliver would be in line to rape their friend too.

Polliver was honestly truly sent into a state of true shock like when the werewolf appeared when the two boys actually DARED to attack him. Hot Pie had run full speed, all his blubber a blob, flesh filled weapon of shame and pain. He slammed into Polliver like a train with no brakes and Polliver found himself slamming into the wall. Lommy was dragging his leg behind him, but he was on his way with the knife Arya had dropped. Oh fuck no, that cannot stand and Polliver sent a hay maker into the fat Piggy's face. The boy fell with a huge thud and Polliver crouched, waiting for Lommy, gesturing for him to attack.

"Come on then, you little wounded, infected piece of trailer trash shit. You think we all don't know all about each of you, your lives? And Lommy, your story was the best of all when Shitmouth told me about it. Here is the best part though, as he was telling me about every detail of your life, something about it nibbled at me. Then I figured it out, your mother, that crack whore, I used to be her dealer! In fact, that first time you were taken away from her, bitch used sucked my cock in an alley just for a little pick me up. She would cry all about her poor boy getting taken away...I had no idea it was you, shitstain. Huh. Small world after all, am I right?

That did it and Lommy lunged, trying to stab Polliver anywhere he could reach. Polliver broke the boy's wrist easily then punched him in the stomach twice before sending his boot into the ruined leg. Lommy made a croaking sound of agony and fell to the ground, rolling, trying to breathe, pain hugging him closer and closer until it was crashing him down. Hot Pie was back on his feet and just as Polliver began to advance on the half fainting Lommy, he got in front of his friend. Polliver stopped and stared at Hot Pie, boring through the boy's frightened but resolved eyes. 

"Don't be fucking stupid, Piggy. So fucking rude, you need me to do you this favor, for us to help you like this. Trust me, it might keep you from getting buried alive. I'm going to toss this little douche-nugget outside to either run with the pack or become their next meal. Sounds like they are getting very hungry or getting excited because Lommy is going to turn furry. Either way, out he goes. And by the time we finish with your other friend, she will really, really have an understanding of the rules. Then you won't be a rude little punk anymore. See? I always have looked out for you, haven't I? Remember when Raff wanted to light firecrackers off in your ass and mouth? I stopped him, didn't I? And if we bullied you, so did your fucking uncle and if we laughed at you, who wasn't laughing at you? Piggy, I made you accept who and what you are. Now look at you, already bloody, sobbing and disgusting. You don't know how to defend yourself, how could you defend anyone else? Move and I'll teach you a lesson after I deal with Lommy."

 

Damon finally got himself settled and then breathed careful deep breaths to stay centered. He had the dynamite and the lighter at the ready, making sure he was just in sight of the werewolves. Waiting, it was nerve wracking. The werewolves were so involved with whatever was happening in the shack, that it took a moment for them to smell him. He whimpered but stayed frozen when one of the wolves finally seemed to raise a snout to sniff at the air. Another growl, yip and howling session commenced.

Oh please, don't let me piss or shit myself and please don't let me get eaten by these fucking things. But Damon stayed in place as the beasts, all three of them, turned their heads in his direction. On rare occasion, when his friends are drunk and amendable enough, Damon enjoys going to the karaoke bar in town. He has a rich lovely voice that sings country music like a dream. His buddies, even Ramsay always become impressed. Then they mercilessly would taunt him that he couldn't sing rock or metal. Now Damon uses his voice, the country rich twang singing a rather strange song as he watched the wolves turn and stalk towards him.

"Please, come to me,  you furry fucking demon bitches from hell, please come to me. Yes, closer, closer oh dear gods don't let the fucking things eat me alive and screaming. Why am I doing this, why did I agree to this, come closer, a bit closer, don't let me die, here we go..." When the fur covered, drooling and snarling beasts got close enough, Damon recalled his days of baseball games. He lit the hidden dynamite and tossed it right into the pack of them. It bounced off one of their backs and they all stared at it as it hit the ground for a second. With a snarling bark, one seemed to lead a quick escape that wasn't quick enough.

The explosion was loud and Damon heard several yelps but he was already running, on his feet now, moving as fast as he can. Alyn was shooting at the wolves as the three of them fled the chaotic impact. All three of them had injuries either from the dynamite or from the bullets. It was enough apparently as all three werewolves ran off, howling and barking into the darkness. Damon watched them run and then he and Alyn headed for the shack at a run. They could rally and return, possibly with more, Damon and Alyn needed to get this rescue over with quickly.

 

Hot Pie stood fast and even his shaking seemed defiant in some way. "I have to stand for Lommy, have to try and protect him. He can't protect himself. And if I can manage to somehow save Lommy, I'm going to try and help Arya next." Polliver saw that Hot Pie had hidden something behind his back and now he pulled the crow bar in front of him. "We kept this in here in case someone ever attacked us. I don't want to hit you with it, Polliver. I just want you to leave my friends alone. Please. And make Tickler stop raping Arya. I guess I have a limit of what I can take too."

"Oh Piggy, you stupid easily influenced little cowardly fat fuck." Polliver spoke in a voice that indicated sadness as if the boy were dead and he felt bad about it. That made Hot Pie shiver but when the man came forward, he swung the crow bar with all his might. It hit hard on Polliver's raised arm and then wrenched out of his hands. Polliver swung and Hot Pie turned to run and it lanced pain through his back.

Hot Pie crumpled to the ground and the bald nightmare bully was flipping him over and sitting on him again. Except this time there weren't any towels to snap or water-board with, it wasn't a blade to carve into his stomach, it was Polliver's hands wrapped around his throat, strangling, killing him. Hot Pie tried to pull at the strong hands but it didn't do any good. Lommy was there suddenly, weak and hurt but trying hard to knock him off of Hot Pie. One hand continued to choke Hot Pie and the other slammed into Lommy's nose, breaking it.

"This is your own fucking fault, Piggy. I was trying to be kind, I tried to teach you, I tried to help and teach your punk buddies. Blame yourself for dying. You drove me to this, boy." Polliver's face was the last thing he was going to see before he died and Hot Pie couldn't stand that thought. He was trying to punch Polliver but his hands were bit at hard by Polliver. The world was becoming lost in an agonizing cloud of need to breathe and the pain, the panic took Hot Pie down even quicker. Both hands squeezed harder, harder and things went away or started to. 

Lommy had just staggered back to try and get Polliver off Hot Pie. Polliver roared in frustration at Lommy as he strangled the life from Hot Pie. Then the explosion, the wolves roaring, gunshots and Polliver forgot he was killing someone. He leaped up and went towards the door, Tickler not far behind, leaving a sobbing Arya to try and dress herself. Hot Pie lay limp, just working on breathing again. Lommy sat next to Hot Pie and just sobbed, praying this was a rescue. A booming voice confirmed it for them all.

 

"ANYONE IN THE FUCKING SHACK, LET'S GO! IT'S A ONE TIME OFFER FOR RESCUE!" Tickler and Polliver whooped and the three kids sobbed in true relief. The two adults seemed to recall the state their victims were in. They blocked the door from the three that would run out of it. Tickler stuck his face in Arya's, making her flinch and whimper, paling. "I hope you got the lesson and don't plan on ruining it by opening your fucking mouth once we are out of here. Or I'll finish what I started then make sure Polliver, Raff and hell, even Shitmouth the clown can have a chance to fuck you."

Polliver put his hands firmly on Hot Pie's shoulders and he seemed to closely examine the terrible bruising upon the fat neck. "Wow. That looks awful, I bet talking will hurt pretty badly for a while. Now, I think you have learned not to ever, ever prick my temper again, Piggy. Haven't you? Or should I finish the job?" Hot Pie managed a husky kind of whisper. "I am sorry I upset you. I won't say anything." Polliver patted the boy's bruised and swollen cheek and gave a gentle smile when Hot Pie sobbed. "Good boy." He let go of Piggy and grabbed Lommy who was leaning on the crow bar to walk.

Knocking the crow bar out of his hands, Polliver helped support the boy and grinned down at him. "Are we cool? Buddies, yeah? For who ever has saved us? Or should I tell them you might be infected?" Lommy sniffed and looked only at the door. "I won't talk about anything. Please, I just want to get out of here and get to a hospital."  Polliver smiled and Tickler took down their barricade, opening the shack door. All of them enjoyed the sudden rush of fresh air and ran out to see Damon and Alyn. "Come on, just over the road is Sam and Gilly's cabin, your clown is already there. We can stay there until daylight. The beasts just ran off after being startled and wounded. Doesn't mean they won't come back and maybe even bring more. So let's go, whoever is here, move!"

 

Damon and Alyn were shocked at the state of the kids but said nothing. Damon grabbed Lommy and slung him over his shoulder, running for the ladder. The others came after him and Alyn was last, watching for the wolves to return. They briefly heard howling in the distance but it wasn't coming in their direction, at least not yet. Past the road, almost to Sam's house, able to see the lights in the windows, Damon took a closer look at the kids.He kept walking but took a second to really look over the punks. The fat one was bruised to hell and back. His shirt was covered in dried blood over his stomach and his throat was a horror show of bruising.

Lommy needed immediate assistance with his leg and his nose was broken. Arya was also bruised up but her shirt was ripped, her pants half falling off, the button gone and zipper broken. Her eyes were burning holes and she moved slowly, holding herself carefully as if hurt inside. Damon wasn't stupid and he hasn't exactly led a sterling clean life. He knew exactly what guys like Polliver and Tickler would do to a pretty young girl. "Damn it. I told you all it wasn't a good idea to mess with them. And look what happened to you. What the hell were you thinking messing with them? Stupid girl."

Arya came to life then, looking up at Damon with a face full of heated outrage. "Are you fucking kidding me? Are you victim blaming me? It's MY fault I was raped? Fuck you, Damon. Fuck you." Before he could open his mouth to respond, the girl started walking away, Hot Pie following her. "Where the fuck do you think you are going? Are you crazy?" "I would rather take my chances with the werewolves than sit in another room with Tickler and Polliver. And I know that I can't stand the thought of standing around with your judgmental, misogynistic, chauvinistic attitude. So fuck off, thanks for the rescue. We are good."

Polliver and Tickler were far ahead with Alyn and Damon had to get Lommy inside. His bleeding was worsening and the boy was limp, fainting for a third time. Damon gave one last yell then followed the others to Sam's cabin. The others didn't know that Hot Pie and Arya ran off until they all got inside and the door was locked.


	22. Mocking Cold Sun

Dawn finally came, the sun began to glow and giving false hope of warmth. The morning came up chilly and frosted dew yet it was untrustworthy, it felt cold but it would be shorts weather by afternoon. It seemed unfair to many for such a lovely day to happen during such dark times. Others saw the morning as a good sign of survival, as a golden hero allowing them safe passage from a terrible night. Whether some liked it or hated it, nothing could stop the coming of the day.

 

Cat was sitting on a kitchen chair, in her bathrobe wondering numbly what the hell she was doing. She had been awake all night, napping lightly on Ned's side of the bed. She had given up by four in the morning and has not left the kitchen since then. A cup of coffee with Ned's favorite whiskey in it, then another. Now Cat was overtired and slightly buzzed and without a care she grabbed the stupid bottle of medication that doctor left for her. Two blue pills had brought a bit of peace as she watched the kitchen fill with light.

They had found Ned's body, Robb's body and Jon's head. Sansa was last seen going into the Baratheon's home. Right before the slaughter of Robert, Joff and Ned. Arya was last seen walking with Lommy, Gendry and Hot Pie towards that stupid water tower shack. None of them have been heard from since yesterday afternoon and Cat prays today brings her daughters home. And answers on the horrible death of half her damned family. Jon died without ever hearing me apologize for forgetting him so much and he died without knowing deep down I cared.

She put her face in her hands which filled with hot bitter tears. The last time I spoke to my husband, we argued over him never being around to help me with the kids. And Robb, my handsome first child, he was so smart and filled with such promise. It wasn't fair that he died, it just wasn't fair at all. Please don't let me have to add my daughters to this list of sadness and regrets. Please, if any gods exists, you have to bring me my girls. Cat tried to stop crying so she would be able to take care of the two boys she still had. That Cat could hopefully still protect and keep safe.

 

Cersei stood on the balcony drinking one more glass of wine. Was it distasteful to be drunk this early in the morning? Can that distastefulness be negated by the fact that she just saw her slaughtered husband and son taken away forever? Cersei frankly didn't give a fuck and filled her glass one more time. Sansa. That red headed cunt killed her family. The only thing Cersei can think of beyond the agony of the loss of her beloved son, was the torturous long death of that bitch who killed him.

It was going to be Cersei's new goal in life was to find and murder Sansa Stark, werewolf or not. The girl was dead and didn't know it yet. Cersei can hunt but not as well as others, but she can always relearn. And of course Cersei has the money to hire others much better at hunting. The best would be if the bitch was brought back still alive. Cersei truly wants to be the one to destroy Sansa. 

 

Arya and Hot Pie stumbled out of the woods and started to laugh hysterically as the stood on the street that led to the now shut down fair. They limped together, holding each other up as they have for hours. "They won't like it. That you told Damon you were raped. That we just took off like that. I bet they won't stop just because of last night. I mean, they might leave Lommy alone now that he will be in the hospital. They always feel good when they get someone hurt enough to be hospitalized."

Smirking at the anger in Hot Pie's voice, Arya responded. "Yeah but it was technically the werewolf that is putting Lommy in the hospital, not them. So it might not be enough for even Lommy. But yeah, they would come after us anyway, I think. And that is alright. I want them too. We need to fight this, fight them, Hot Pie. We aren't involving the adults. I mean it. Because what I want to do back to Polliver and Tickler isn't going to be anything adults should see. Are you in or out? If you need to run, I'll understand, I won't think less of you. I mean, Polliver tried to kill you. I can give you enough money to leave town if you want."

Hot Pie shook his head fast and stood a little taller as they walked. "Nope. I'm staying and fighting right beside you. They have gone too far, it's too late to change that. I am going to go as far as we need to. If I am willing to die for us, I am willing to kill for us too." Arya nodded and shivered, knowing it is probably going to go there. She can't live while Tickler breathes the same air that she does. He must die. Giving a sigh of relief, she looked at her home and wondered how much trouble she was in for being out all night without a single word. Hugging Hot Pie, Arya reminded him to be careful getting to his uncle's home. 

The bruised and resolute boy said he would be fine and headed off back towards the fair area. His home was not in the better section of the town. Arya tried to sneak into her house by the back door that led into the kitchen. It was still early enough that everyone would be asleep for a small bit longer. She was too tired and sore to notice that several cars were missing. Quietly entering the house, Arya leaped and screamed when her mother suddenly stood up and swayed, "Arya! Oh god, Arya!" She expected her mother to land on her like an avenging angel but instead she was scooped into the tightest hug, tears landing on her.

 

Unella was done trying to rest by the time the birds were heartily chirping. She went upstairs, skirted past the bed full of undead husband and went to her dresser. Throwing on her oldest pair of jeans and t-shirt under the heaviest flannel she owned then went to make breakfast as usual. Even if the world has become anything but  usual, it didn't change what Unella must do. As the ancient coffee pot fought her, she heard the familiar sounds of her husband rising, heading into the shower. The normal sounds of Sandor rising, his music playing as he moved about.

Cooking breakfast, Unella enjoyed the music, finding the jagged heavy metal to be relaxing. Gregor came down first, his brother only seconds behind him. She put a cup of coffee and a bowl of heavily cinnamon seasoned oatmeal before each of them. The newly made table was smaller than the original but that just meant that they sat a little closer to each other.  Gregor took a sip of his coffee then another. He put the cup down and glared at Unella who was looking at him. "What?" Putting her chin up slightly, Unella responded evenly. "Your eyes, Gregor. They are still black and your skin is still gray. When did this Dr. Qyburn say it would change back?"

Shrugging, Gregor muttered, "He didn't say when. Who cares anyway? I will take the medication, go to the next visit and ask. Now shut up about it." Unella nodded and lowered her eyes, drinking her own coffee. He ate two bites of his oatmeal before he turned to his brother. "This table is too small. I want a larger one done in your spare time." Sandor sighed deeply. "Spare time? We are starting this afternoon instead of next weekend plus our regular work and fine, yes, in my spare time." Gregor sipped his coffee and pinned his brother with his black eyes. "I don't care how or when you do it. Just do it. Or I'll make you into our new table."

Gregor ate two more bites of his oatmeal then put down his spoon and pushed his bowl away. Unella looked up and asked, "Something wrong with your breakfast?" Shoving away from the table, Gregor shook his head as he went to get his coat. "No. Same as all your food, bland but adequate. Just not hungry today. Going to get started out back sorting out what we'll need for later. You two can go into town to pick up supplies today. I am going to trust that your little adventure the other day is all out of your system. Buy only what is on the list and for the lowest prices you can find."

Both nodded and said nothing as he left. Then Unella stood up and went to the trash can, pulling something out and slamming it down in front of Sandor's nose. It was two empty boxes of rat poison from the basement. "I poured both boxes into his coffee and oatmeal. He never tasted it, smelled it and he ate it. Even that small amount he ate and drank should have made him very sick. And he drank almost the whole cup of coffee, that alone should have killed him. Luckily, he is dead already." Sandor shook his head. "If he is truly dead, how is he eating or drinking at all? We need to visit his fucking doctor."

 

Raff brought Roose two codeine tablets and strong coffee. "Here you are, Sir. We just received word from the rescue team that started at dawn to find the missing girls in the woods. They found several men hiding from the wild beasts in Sam Tarly's cabin. There is one that is wounded and is being transported to the hospital." Roose closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "What about the kids? Arya and her group?"

Clearing his throat, Raff mentally cursed his friends one more time. "The kids were at the water tower last night, Lommy is the one injured. One of the beasts attacked him, got his leg. Uh, the boy Gendry was killed by the beasts. Arya, Lommy and Hot Pie all hid in the shack along with others until Damon and Alyn left Sam's to help them. After they were saved, Damon tried to lead them all to Sam's cabin but Arya and Hot Pie chose to leave on their own instead."

Roose opened his eyes at that and narrowed them, his lips compressed. "Who was in the shack with them until Damon and Alyn showed up?" Raff forced himself to look as innocent and reverent as ever. He loved his friends, but he loved his job and furthering his career so much more. At least while Roose's eyes were pinned upon him. "Polliver and Tickler had gone up to harass them. Got stuck in the shack when the beasts attacked them all."

"Raff, you need new friends. I tell Ramsay that all the time and he never listened to me either. Damon and Alyn will tell me what they know in private but will keep their mouths shut otherwise. But I am telling you now, if Cat Stark or her daughter decide to report...I have no choice but to arrest Polliver and Tickler. And if those two kids show up dead or not at all, I will be delighted to paint your friends for it. Because what you haven't said and I am sure I will hear soon enough is that all of those boys are yelling about werewolves. Right? Which do you think I care more about going away? If those kids die or are clearly assaulted, I will find a way to pin those two reprobates for all of it. Ned is dead, Robert is dead, I am the only law of the town right now. I can do it, I will do it. Those two drug dealing scumbuckets can finally give the community some good service for once. I'll be happy to let them become our werewolves, two killers that can take the blame for so many dead or missing."

 

Roose watched as all the men, including Sam holding his son, were shuffled into the station. He ushered them into different rooms to be interviewed and then the door opened again. Cat Stark came in like an avenging angel from some olden days, her black dress flowing around her, heels clicking hard. In one claw, she dragged a bruised up fat boy and in the other she dragged a bruised up girl. Raff's stomach dropped as the woman approached him with the clearly unwilling teenagers.

"I am reporting assault on minors! Roose, I see you hiding over there! These two children are beaten! And the only thing they will say to me is that werewolves attacked them and their friends. That Lommy is hurt and Gendry is dead! I want someone to interview these children with proper care and I want to know if those other two teenagers are alright! And whoever injured these children will be prosecuted!"  Arya glared up at her mother and snarled out, "You tell me that my father and two brothers are dead but this is all you care about? Kids get beat up. It happens, I have come home beaten up before. Get over it. Werewolves killed my family and friends, mother. Worry about that, would you?"

Quickly, Roose shut the doors that led to the rooms where Polliver and Tickler were watching from. He approached the grieving, angry woman with caution and spoke calmly, softly. "Of course we shall take a full report and interview. Raff, please take the children into the break room for a chat. All our interview rooms are used up right now. So you know, Lommy is on his way to the hospital, his leg is injured but he will survive. We have recovered Gendry's head, same as Jon's was." Cat looked as if Roose had struck her and tears filled her eyes.

"Come now, dear. This is all very stressful on you. Why don't you sit in my office while the children speak with my best and finest officer here." Cat nodded and gave no extra thought when Arya and Hot Pie rolled their eyes. They went with Raff and Cat allowed Roose to offer her answers that were nothing more than carefully worded questions. 


	23. Lines Drawn And Crossed

The room was tiny and cramped, the ghost of pizza and ramen noodles lingered. Raff sat at one end of the white square table and the kids sat on the other side, pulling their chairs next to each other. Smirking, the officer flipped his slick blond ponytail behind him and tapped his pen against his clipboard. "Now, do either of you wish to report an assault?" He waited, blinking innocently and mockingly as both Hot Pie and Arya slowly shook their heads.

"Great. Now...please tell me what happened since you were last seen. You were last spotted yesterday afternoon walking towards the old water tower, to your little clubhouse, right? So, I need to fill out this report for your mother and Roose, for an official record." He tapped the pen and raised an eyebrow. "Someone want to go first?" Hot Pie looked at Raff with a stony expression and his voice was utterly without emotion as he spoke.

"Arya, Lommy, Gendry and me went to the shack like usual. Werewolves attacked us, they killed Gendry, they hurt Lommy's leg pretty badly. We hid in the shack until help came." Raff nodded and wrote it all down then frowned. "Hmm. Except Polliver and Tickler are already here being interviewed along with Damon, Alyn and Sam. Damon already mentioned who he rescued from that shack. So...should I add in that the two of them happened to be in the area and joined you?"

Hot Pie and Arya both gave a small laugh, sharing a look. "Sure. They showed up just as the werewolves came. Polliver and Tickler tried to shoot the werewolves off Lommy and they helped us get safely to the cabin. That part is actually true. The werewolves are real, Gendry dying is real. I hope at least this part of the report is paid attention too." Raff looked up at the sullen Hot Pie after he wrote it all down. "I can't discuss the wolves with you. It's under investigation by the police and you are just a citizen. Sorry, kiddo. Now, you are both all bruised up. Do you wish to tell me how that happened?"

Arya stood up then and gave Raff the most chilling look he has ever received from a woman. And though Raff is usually quite a hit with the ladies, he has caused women to hate him before when he was with his friends. Not like this though, they never gave him such a look as if they already were burying him. He stayed sitting as did Hot Pie, Raff made sure he looked as unconcerned as possible. But he made sure his hand was near his taser as the girl came over to him, leaned on the table to stare into Raff's eyes.

In a rough but quiet tone, clearly heard, the fury in it, scorching all in it's path, Arya explained things to Raff. "No. I don't wish to tell the police that we were beaten up. I do not wish to report that I was raped. You can write whatever the fuck you'd like. Put down that we played fucking board games and sang campfire songs until help came for us. This is what I want you to tell Polliver and Tickler. Tell them that they are right. Yup. I am to blame, I made a mistake by fucking with the wrong men. I have got it. Now, you tell them this. They have FUCKED with the wrong girl. This time, I am making the lessons. And on a personal note, you would do well to stay out of it."

Raff laughed softly and his eyes held a mix of sadistic amusement and actual begrudging respect. "Sweetheart, if I deliver that bone chilling message to them, do you understand what would happen? They will come for you and it will be brutal, it will be slow. Are you sure you want me to tell them what you said? Really, really sure?" Arya nodded and smirked without a shred of humor. "Yes, I want you to tell them. And don't call me sweetheart. Call me Arya or Ms. Stark, please. Tell your friends I am coming for them. Tell Tickler I really cannot wait to have another lesson with him."

Shaking his head slightly, with a sigh, Raff looked up at Arya. "Alright then." He shifted his eyes to Hot Pie and asked, "Are you fleeing from town or joining the girl with this homicidal craziness?" Heavily, Hot Pie stood up and walked over to stand next to his friend. Clearing his throat, his eyes rising to Raff's in spite of the fear, it was hard as hell but he did it. The words didn't' come easily through his bruised throat or his terror, but they came and they were real and heartfelt. They were the only words that made it past Hot Pie's trauma but they were the perfect words in the end.

"Tell Polliver that my name isn't Piggy. It's Hot Pie. If he forgets it again maybe I'll have to carve it into him."

Raff's mouth dropped slightly and he just stared at the fat boy as if he had just gone utterly insane. His voice was soft, reasonable as a preschool teacher and full of an awful truth. "Kid, Polliver will kill you. I mean, the girl has a very small chance of surviving but you...you'll be taken and he'll torture you after he uses you for bait to catch the girl. He'll torture you until it finally kills you. Do you understand this?" Hot Pie nodded.

"What Tickler did to Arya...it isn't forgivable. What Polliver did to me, that isn't forgivable to me either. He tried to kill my friend, he allowed his friend to rape my other friend. And he carved a slur into my stomach that will scar and stay forever. I want you to give him the message." Raff spread his hands out as if he tried all he could to help these two suicidal freaks. "Okay then. I guess that will be all for this interview. Go on out to the couch in the hallway until Mrs. Stark is ready to escort you home. From now on, it might be a really good idea to stay with an escort."

 

Bran had frantically researched all night long while his mother and brother tried hard to pretend they could sleep. He couldn't handle the emotion, he couldn't understand the deaths, his sisters both missing. And after knowing the things Qyburn has led him to, Bran believes the rumors heard, he believes Sansa might be a werewolf. He believes Rickon about Gregor but he understands much more about that now than his little brother could comprehend. By morning, Bran was convinced of what he needed to. Things had to be set to rights around here and there was no one else to do it. No one else but Qyburn and a few others in town, seemed to understand, Bran can help change that.

He had rolled into the kitchen to see Arya looking like she had been through a war. His mother was crying, his sister was crying and it took Bran awhile to understand what had happened. Bran quickly noticed the state of Arya's clothing and accidentally, Bran saw the side of his sister's breast and it was nearly black, smudged fingerprints. Luckily, their mother was still fixated on the huge swollen bruising all over her daughter. Bran wanted to throw up and made sure not to bring his suspicion of rape to his mother's attention.

Arya refused to tell his mother of the attack and so Bran would wait and find out why that was. Bran did stay to assist his mother in telling Arya of the death of their father and older brothers. It was with interest that Bran noted when their mother mentioned that Sansa was missing, Arya got a glint of fury in her eyes. But she said nothing and Bran held his own silence. He waited until his mother allowed Arya to go shower and dress to speak with her. That took some time as Cat wanted to bring Arya straight to a hospital but his sister went nearly ballistic over the idea. Finally, his grieving, weary mother caved. "Fine! Go shower and change."

Bran waited while his sister went to the bathroom and he waited while his mother suddenly grabbed her keys and ran out the door. He heard the car start and shriek out of the driveway and wondered where his mother was going. Then rolled into the bathroom to find the shower so hot that his lungs were suddenly so clear he could have sung an opera. He could hear his sister sobbing in rage and pain, the frantic sounds of scrubbing. Bran called to her and she jumped before swearing at him. He apologized for giving her a start and then he waited. Arya told him everything, including that she saw a werewolf with Sansa's eyes.

Bran didn't try to tell Arya her plan to get revenge was madness or too dangerous. He simply tried to help think of ways to help her and keep her as safe as possible. After all, he was the man of the family now and it was his duty. However, stuck in this wheelchair, his mother will never see him for the help he needs to be. It will be hard to look after and assist Arya and Rickon with their problems without legs. Bran has made his decision. Though he always absorbs the words of others, waits for it, in fact, Bran rarely shares back in such a personal way. This has always served him well and without consulting others, he has made an important choice that will change his entire life. A quick texting session with Qyburn ensued while Bran waited for Arya to finish dressing.

When Cat came back dragging Hot Pie, Bran was already formulating his plan. Cat told Arya that she found Hot Pie in this condition and he told her of Lommy and Gendry. That they were going to the police station whether they liked it or not. Bran supported that action fully, telling Arya in a whisper, what better way to get her message sent? That Raff was on duty and could be the one to deliver it.

They left and Bran had to try and hide his happiness over such a perfect opportunity for his plan to work out! He turned to Rickon and smiled. "This is a really rough, terrible time. We are all upset and sad. But I need to do something and really would like your help. Only you could help me do this, no one but my little brother is brave enough or crazy enough. Would you mind if this time, you helped me?"

 

Cat drove the car past the deconstruction of the fairgrounds to drop Hot Pie off at his uncle's home. "Are you sure you do not wish to stay with someone else?" Cat's voice was cold as she was angry at the kids, but concerned to leave this injured boy with a man she knew didn't care for him. "I have no one else but my uncle. But thank you, I'll be fine. I appreciate the ride, Mrs. Stark." She felt regret as she watched the injured teenager stagger out of her car. I can't do more than this for him, I can't. Too much already that I'm drowning in. I am so sorry but I can't. And Cat drove away, biting her lip, noting her daughter staring back at her in the rear-view mirror.

"I am very upset with both of you. I wish you would tell me or Roose what happened to you. But I won't pressure you any further on it. Your father and brothers need to be...and your sister...we have to pray for her, to find her alive and safe." The glint of hate in Arya's eyes was seen and Cat accidentally stepped on the gas pedal harder, outrage coursing through her. "Really? No matter what stupid sibling fights you girls might have, your sister is MISSING and might be DEAD! Does that fucking compute to you?" Arya was shocked at her mother's cursing and the speeding. "Slow down, mom, gonna mow down kids if you don't. I have my reasons for feeling the way I do but you won't want to hear them. Trust me."

Cat drove faster, nearly squealing the wheels as she turned onto their street. "I don't trust you, young lady. Look at you, look at the state of you and yet nothing, you don't want to talk about it. Now you have reasons? What kind of reasons to wish ill upon your sister? Consider that your father was slaughtered and Jon was decapitated! Now what do you think might have happened to your sister? Did you even-" Arya climbed into the front seat and quickly buckled the seat belt as she cut off her mother, temper activated. "YES, YES, I HAVE THOUGHT OF SANSA! SHE ATTACKED US! SHE IS A FUCKING WEREWOLF, MOM! SO THERE, YOU WANT TO KNOW STUFF? YOU WON'T LIKE IT. SANSA IS A WEREWOLF!"

The car braked hard just before Cat sent the car through the wall of the house. "How dare you? Have you gone insane, Arya?" Cat was looking at her daughter, trying to figure out if it was shock, being a teenager in a rebellious stage or a mental breakdown. It didn't matter to her right hand which swung out and slapped Arya's bruised cheek. The hand had rudely not sought permission, it just struck and Cat gasped as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, oh god, what is wrong with all of us?"

As if in horrific answer, Bran plummeted down and landed on the front of the car with a sound so awful, Cat would hear it in her dreams. He seemed to stare upwards with blind eyes to look at Rickon, who was screaming from the roof.


	24. Blood Slicked Sides

Theon was terrified when he woke up to his sister yanking him out of the cage. Her face was frozen in a terrifying snarl and she was not fully human in her eyes. He shrieked and struggled for a second. "DO NOT! You will set it off, Theon. Stay still, be calm. Please. We have to leave here and I need to keep you safe while we move." He saw the needle and whimpered but dared not to protest. There was a prick and his sister blurred then left or he did.

He woke up with a terrible headache surrounded by fucking female werewolves. Theon wanted to shout at his sister, to demand to know how this was safer for him? But silence was going to be his new creed if he wanted to survive. Reek told him that and Theon believed it. The worst part was the females only promised Yara not to kill, eat or maim him. Theon and Reek felt that left way too much ground in between uncovered. Yara had convinced the pack that they needed a pure human in case of town needs. He could travel back and forth if need be for them. Theon could even speak for them if it ever came to that. They all knew it was bullshit, hell, it was bullshit but it was acceptable.

The women no longer truly could resemble who they were, though they tried to. But they were defeated by their own emotions every time. Theon felt truly bad for them, it was clear that none of them chose this. Sansa wailed and wailed, raking her own claws through her already wounded flesh. She would roll and smash herself into the cave walls in guilt and regret. Theon was sad that Ned and Robb were dead and he was horrified that Sansa ate one of her sister's friends. He felt such empathy for her and yet he was truly repulsed by her at the same time.

Gilly sobbed as if her heart was shattered over her son and husband, she will never see them again. If she does, she might kill them, eat her own child and that horror alone makes her vomit over and over sometimes. Ygritte lays curled up and doesn't move much, thinking of Jon and what she did to him, drowning in the angst. Theon thought uneasily of how much her brooding looks like Jon's did. The only one that maintained any true human control was Yara, this made her the alpha or so it seemed. But her control of both herself and the pack was fragile. Theon did his best to be only obedient and helpful, to be a calm influence on them all the best he could.

In spite of their injuries that seemed to heal in a rapid way, in spite of all their misery, the females were still werewolves. And Theon was still their prey, no matter what. Theon would feel their eyes intently tracking his every movement, their nostrils flared and they licked their lips. Sometimes they growled and would get very close, too close.  Sniffing him, even licking him or rubbing against him as if to mark him and it made Theon have to bite back whimpers. He would stay still and keep his eyes down, hoping Yara would intervene. She always did but the day would come when she wasn't around, then what happens?

 

Petyr and Varys exited their homes at the exact same time. Both wore suits more fancy then ever before. Silk ties, jeweled cuff-links, imported shoes and suit that a delivery person rushed overnight to deliver. Using two months worth of their salaries paid for it and neither regretted it. Petyr and Varys have never looked better and never has either smiled this much before.

They shared a look, a mix of shared triumph and yet a jealous spark that it had to be shared. Varys spoke first. "The district attorney is dead." Petyr responded with, "The mayor is dead. According to our town laws, the next in line after the mayor is..." The smile grows as Varys replies, "The Director of Public Services." Both said at once, "That is both of us." Petyr tilted his head and clasped his best friend and worst enemy's hand. "We best get to work, so much to fix." Varys loved and hated this man as he answered. "Yes, and I am sure we have much to cover up as well. We must visit Roose Bolton and get the dirtier parts done first."

 

Lommy floated, way high up to the ceiling and stayed there, away from the throbbing in his leg. His mind replayed things over and over but the emotions couldn't touch him the same way up here. It was funny though, so much of it was funny as awful as it might sound. He didn't give a fuck while he was floating, it was safe to laugh here. The werewolves were not funny, the parts with Gendry and inside the shack were not funny. It was afterwards that was funny, that was fucking hysterical really.

He had woken up to find Sam over him along with Alyn. Both were working his leg and it hurt like hell, he woke screaming actually. That wasn't funny either. Sam ran into his bathroom and came back with some painkillers, saying something about they were Gilly's for her back pain. It helped the worst of pain go away and Lommy was down to just sobbing. Now he felt a bit dizzy and sick, he asked for some water. Damon was there with water and he assisted Lommy in sitting up to drink it.

As Lommy clutched the water bottle with shaking hands and sipped at it, he heard the most bizarre conversation. Damon, Alyn and Sam were all still hovering over him, so he watched each face intently. He saw Alyn and Damon share a look before asking Sam a strange sounding question. 

"Where is the clown? I mean, we waited until the boy was stabilized but...where the fuck is the clown?" Damon and Alyn had stared with intensity at Sam who seemed unwilling to respond. Finally with a mutinous look, Sam blurted out, "The clown ran away." Alyn tilted his head. "Why? Why would the clown run back outside with the werewolves?" Sam shrugged and spoke with extreme nonchalance. "Because I told him I would shoot him if he didn't." Damon nodded and said, "Oh. Okay, well that solves that. Now...why the living fuck would you threaten to shoot the clown?" Alyn turned green and murmured. "Oh no, did he go after your son?"

Sam shook his head and spoke with a new face, one that Lommy found strange upon the gentle round features. "No, he got nowhere near my child. That is why he had to leave. I figured out who the clown really was. And I gave him the option of leaving or dying. He chose to leave." That was when Lommy heard the most awful thing, the sound of familiar laughter. In pain, high on painkillers and loss of blood were Lommy's only excuse for the bonehead thing he did next. "Polliver carved into Hot Pie, he used his knife to cut the word Piggy into him! Tickler raped Arya, he raped her, Damon! They tried to throw me out to the werewolves! Damon, you are an officer, you have to arrest them! Please!"

Lommy sat higher in his panic as he saw the angry pair come towards him. Suddenly they both stopped as Damon, Alyn and Sam all trained guns upon them. "Lommy, that was very stupid of you." Lommy flinched at the deadly tone of Polliver's voice, noting the two men only looked at him, ignoring the guns in their great anger. Tickler put one finger across his throat and then pointed, winking at Lommy. Damon came forward then, with a new face firmly affixed now, just like Sam's.

His voice was full of indignation and bitter judgment. "You want to murder a traumatized teenager who accidentally blurted out something while losing blood and high on codeine? We all know that none of it will be reported. Arya and Hot Pie won't say anything, they aren't stupid. And none of us would say anything either. We all know it's the last thing Roose wants to hear and the last thing Raff would allow to reach him. If either of you touch Lommy over what he just said, I'm going to personally get involved. Which means Ramsay gets involved. We have always managed to avoid a war, you don't want to start one now, do you?"  

Polliver sneered but backed off, putting his hands out, showing his palms. "Oh no. I don't wish to ever tangle with the Chief of Police's son. Anymore than I wanted to tangle with that fucking Stark cunt. I knew she was the D. A.'s daughter, I'm not fucking dumb, you redneck mutant piece of shit. But she wouldn't give in, Damon, I can't just let that shit go. They all needed a bit of counseling. They weren't killed, just taught. A big fucking difference, you know that. Those little punks were SAVED from those werewolves by us! Even then that bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut and convinced that stupid fat fuck that he could take me on! Wasn't our fault that they needed a lesson. And Lommy's leg is like that because of the fucking werewolves! He could have turned into one!"

Alyn and Sam came forward and Lommy giggled from way above the memory, watching as Tickler and Polliver saw just how upset the men were. Sam's voice was so cold, it made the Lommy in the memory shiver visibly. "You tried to throw a teenager to those werewolves. You cut up a teenager. And you, you raped a teenager. Three young kids. I don't care what they said or did, they didn't deserve what you did." Alyn growled as he advanced towards Polliver and Tickler slowly.

"Hurrah for saving them from the werewolves. You saved them and then you tried to murder two of them, yeah, not only did you try and toss Lommy but I saw Hot Pie's neck. So you saved them in order to personally try to murder two of them and rape the other one. And the police and parents will never get to know." Damon walked closer and Sam closed the circle around the two. Damon spoke next and his voice was quiet thunder. "But we know. So I guess this is the best we can do for those kids. Lommy, you will tell only Arya and Hot Pie about anything you see tonight."

Lommy floating, giggled, watching how the rifles got reversed and all three beat the living hell out of Polliver and Tickler. Only after they were bleeding and begging, instead of cursing and struggling, did the beating relent. It wasn't enough to even break their bones, but it was enough to really really hurt. Lommy wasn't sure that was truly justice, but it was something. He floated and giggled as his nurse adjusted his medication. Lommy never even felt the thick pudgy hand trace his cast then his upper leg. Floating, the hand now caressing his groin was just part of the dream.

Giggling, then panting, it felt good to float and then Lommy whimpered and arched. Lommy felt it build, the pleasure and far away a hand was jerking him off which was not good at all, but it felt good and he floated too far high to stop anything. A voice, a terrible voice that he KNEW was there just as Lommy reached orgasm. "Good lad, I am terrible at apologies, but Shitmouth the clown always tries one way or another! Just wanted to let you know I'm sorry I left you to die. And hey, since your buddies just declared war, you are the closest and easiest target. But Shitmouth won't kill you, this clown has few morals and ethics but this is one of them. When you make it out of here, I'll find you. I'm going to keep you as a pet in my van for a while, have a little fun with you. See you later, Lommy."


	25. Chasing Tails

Unella and Sandor had picked up everything on the list then decided to head for the hospital. They found this doctor Qyburn's office without asking for any assistance nor did they bother asking his receptionist anything. This was way past something politely handled in a timely manner. As the formidable pair headed straight for the doctor's door with the shiny plaque upon it, his employee decided to get brave. The lovely woman abandoned her salad and with a circus leap was before them. Sandor watched in fascination as the hand flew up as if to indicate stopping and the woman spoke in a lyrical but firm voice.

"You may not enter. You will speak with me first and I can pass along your messages. I will not back down." Sandor wasn't willing to hurt the brave employee but he was willing to lift and move her if need be. Unella moved first and got in the pretty face, speaking with clear, clipped words. "I am seeing Doctor Qyburn right now. He sent me home a dead husband. He walks and talks and is dead. If I have to go through you, I will." Luckily, the door opened and the man himself finally appeared. The small wizened doctor seemed quite surprised to see such a sight before him. "Oh dear. What is this? I have an emergency that I must attend to in ten minutes. Please do not threaten my receptionist."

Sandor and Unella flanked Qyburn as he headed out and down the hallway. He had told them this surgery was a matter of life and death, they blocked him and laughed bitterly. Qyburn then blinked at them and spoke with earnest truth. "It is a boy. Bran Stark tried to commit suicide over the death of his brothers and father. There is minimal signs of life, I truly need to help him. If you make me late, he will die." So they followed and heard answers.

"I assure you that Gregor is not a zombie. He isn't really the undead. Surely, you noticed he still functions? A dead man cannot do that. Yes, there are some disturbing side effects, like the black eyes and the skin color. But it might change, on some who have undergone the same procedures, it did change back a little. On others, it created different things, like purple or blue lips, pale skin. As for the extra strength, I have lived in this town long enough to know what makes this family of yours so needed. So isn't it really a plus that Gregor has this new strength?"

Sandor blocked the doctor again and glared down at him. "Who told you about what we do?" The infuriating old man simply shrugged and said, "I know many things about this town. The boy, remember, I need to hurry?" Unella yanked Sandor out of the doctor's way and they continued to walk with him until he reached the swinging doors to a restricted area. Sandor and Unella felt even more confused than they were before they saw the doctor.

 

Ramsay was pissed that he had to work instead of search for his Reek. Also, he hated his new partner, he had to admit that he missed having Robb to argue with. Rast was a gross asshole that had no sense of humor and easily caved to anything. The only reason he was stuck with this jerk was because he needed a partner that doesn't give a fuck what Qyburn or Ramsay does. Rast only cares that he makes a little extra cash out of whatever fuckery happens in between the real calls. When the call came directly from the doctor, he flew. They were halfway there before the radio call for assistance at the Stark residence came.

Rast took a fast look before they got too close and whistled. "Holy fuck, guess we aren't in a rush anymore on his account." Ramsay shot back, "We are in more of a rush than ever. Just agree and do your fucking job, okay?" They went to Bran and the family as fast as they could. Cat was holding her son's hand and sobbing, unable to let go of him. Rickon was being held by Arya who kept trying to assure him that he didn't just help murder his big brother. What a fucking mess and Ramsay wanted away from it as fast as possible. Not too mention, it is more dangerous the longer it takes to remove this body.

Ramsay allowed his acting to come into play as Rast tried to get the woman to move so they can take her son away. He suddenly pretended to seem terribly shocked and then frantic as he held Bran's wrist then put his head to the chest. "A PULSE! I have a pulse, let's go! Hurry! Cat, fucking MOVE, THERE IS A PULSE AND I HAVE TO MOVE HIM NOW! Let me save him, Cat!" The woman finally seemed to register the words and ignored the rudeness, staring at her unmoving son. A painful twist of hope hit her and she moved out of the way. "Save him! He is alive? He is...is he?" Cat was babbling and the kids were yanking at her, telling her they can follow in the car. She watched as the two men took her son away then ran so fast for the car that she fell down and tore the hell out of her chin.

 

Roose wasn't a bit surprised to find every single report was nearly exact in the story. What bothered him wasn't what might be missing, he knew there was a shitload missing from those bogus reports. But they were silent about it, none of them chose to speak of their personal matters and Roose let that all be for now. Roose isn't a dumb man, even if privately none of them told him what happened, he can pretty much guess on the details. He saw the state of those kids and those two criminals. That was fine, let it be for now, he wanted Poliver and Tickler to think they were free to do as they will. He didn't want them to know the noose was hanging yet. Raff was loyal to himself first, Roose next and only then his friends, just like Ramsay. Roose know Raff won't warn them. So none of that bothered Roose.

What bothered Roose was something glaringly clear in every one of the reports. Not one of them would back down on the issue and all swore up and down that it was werewolves. This was just what he didn't want going around and it bothered him. He hated being bothered. Sighing, he stretched and tried to massage his tight neck. No one will actually believe teenagers yelling about a werewolf, it wasn't a concern. But grown men? Three of them, Damon, Alyn and Sam, respected in the community by their peers and elders? Roose would have to speak to the men personally on this issue. First he had to receive the call from his son to hear that Bran Stark took a nosedive off his house. What the living hell is wrong with his town? It hasn't gone this bad, this early, in years. His head began to thump again.

 

Polliver and Tickler sat together on the long table in the conference room. It was where they followed Raff to after their interviews. Raff shut the door and approached his friends, staying on his feet. "I am supposed to bring the other guys here too. Roose will be in to talk to you all in about ten minutes or so." Tickler leered and inquired, "Does that go for the two little punks I saw in here earlier?" Raff shook his head and smirked. "No. They left awhile ago. They gave the same story all of you did, no different. But I do have something to tell you before I get the others."

Raff gave Arya's message first and the reaction was as expected. Tickler was furious and desperate for the challenge. "She thinks I fucked with the wrong girl? What I did was NOTHING. Nothing compared to what I'm going to do, what is that fucking bitch thinking? How fucking DARE that cunt? She wants to try and teach ME a LESSON? Let her fucking try, I cannot fucking wait!" It wasn't until Polliver held up his hand that Tickler stopped yelling, pacing and fuming. "You look like there is more. Is there more to our dreadful message of doom from the little punk?" Polliver sounded amused and that seemed to relax Tickler a little more.

Taking a breath, Raff actually had a moment of feeling so bad for both Polliver and his favorite victim that he almost said nothing. But Raff opened his mouth and the words came out. "The boy had a message too. It was only for you. He wanted me to tell you that his name was Hot Pie, not Piggy. That if you forgot his name again, he might have to carve it into you." Tickler froze in place, his mouth sagging as Raff's had done. Then he whispered, "No. He didn't dare do that." Polliver's eyes glowed and when he spoke, it was hushed and gentle as if speaking to a baby. "What? What did he say? What did that fat cockless fucking dead boy say? Oh, Piggy, you are just fresh meat now. Call our new buddy the clown, tell him we can offer him a little fun."

 

Raff took off to call his buddy while Roose spoke with the sullen group. The chief told them they needed to refer to their attackers as wolves or wild beasts. None of them liked it much at all. He threatened Damon's job, he threatened to jail Polliver and Tickler for battery upon minors. Roose won the three but Alyn and Sam were steadfast in their convictions. "Sam, you have been through so much, an attack, your wife is missing and now you must protect and raise that boy all alone. You should start over fresh in a place with better options for your child. Perhaps I can help arrange a few things for you?" Sam stared flatly at Roose. "And if I choose not to leave and not keep my mouth shut?"

Roose shrugged, "I will make sure that you seem crazy which will not be good for your son's welfare. Gilly was our only child services counselor. It would be up to Mr. Petyr Baelish now, what might happen to your son if he felt you could not care for your boy because of your delusions?" Alyn was threatened with being black balled from his own career as well as being committed. It wouldn't be hard, Roose assured him, everyone knew that Alyn had a ton of crazy conspiracy theories. Roose was satisfied of everyone's silence when he allowed them all to leave the station.

 

Cat sat without moving or speaking, staring without seeing the televisions screen in the old waiting room of the hospital. Arya was texting with Piggy and Rickon did briefly text Robin and Shireen. His aunt Lysa tried to call and text his mom but she wasn't responding to anyone that wasn't staff. Aunt Lysa finally resorted to calling Arya and her niece only told her that Bran was in surgery and she would receive a call as soon as they knew more. Lysa yelled something about family duty and responsibility to Arya who ignored it and hung up.

Rickon wasn't shocked when his aunt showed up a bit later to drag him off with his cousin. Saying that a hospital was no place for children and she will watch them until Cat can care for them. Cat seemed to only stare at her sister and shrug. Arya refused to go and only then did Cat briefly come to life. "Take Rickon, he is too young. Arya can stay if she wants to. Thank you, Lysa." Huffing importantly, Lysa shoved Rickon towards her car where Robin was waiting, bouncing with excitement over the impromptu visit. "Mother says if your own mom doesn't make it home tonight that you might sleep over!"

Rickon grinned at that then horrified himself by bursting into tears. Aunt Lysa looked as freaked out as if Rickon had just blown boogers all over her car, but Robin stopped smiling and hugged his cousin hard. Lysa allowed herself a tiny moment of thinking how amazing her son was. Her golden shining innocent boy offering comfort to a boy who has no mother interested in comforting him. Lysa was relieved that that her strange nephew had stopped his crying by the time they reached her home.

 

She allowed the boys to run upstairs as she began to cook dinner as well as desert. Unlike her sister, Lysa knew how to properly feed boys in a fun way. The woman hummed to a wonderful opera while she created an exciting but healthful dinner for the boys. A standing forest of broccoli with a low sodium cheddar cheese base to keep it still and to be dipped into on a bright orange plate. Cubes of tofu with colorful toothpicks and several different types of vegetable dips for them. Organic watermelon cut into thick slices, celery stuffed with peanut butter and raisins to simulate ants on a log. Then the parfait of frozen yogurt, berries and granola for the desert.

As Lysa calmly prepared a better meal than she personally ever saw her sister make, her son was hearing a fascinating tale. Of how Bran tricked Rickon into helping him commit suicide. It seemed like a fun game at first, Bran kept buttering Rickon up, saying only he could help him out. Then Bran had only promised that if Rickon could help Bran reach the roof, an amazing thing would be seen. He kept telling Rickon that he must trust his older brother, that he was technically the man of the house now. 

"I never would have helped him if I knew what he would do! But just before Bran rolled off the roof he smiled at me. He said to trust him and that I shouldn't worry, that he will be back even better than before." Robin said that this needed thinking on and Shireen's clever head was needed. However, Lysa called for dinner and her smile soured as Rickon grimaced at the carefully prepared meal. He ate very little and that made Lysa snap a negative when her son asked if Shireen could come over. Robin and his cousin were released from the table and they texted Shireen about the Bran situation. She said she would think upon it at the wharf that night and see them in the morning.

 

Cat said nothing, did nothing but wait silently. When a nurse came and moved them to a smaller waiting room on the surgery floor, it was the only time Arya saw her mother move. Arya got a text from Hot Pie reminding her that Lommy was in the hospital too. And he needed to be warned of the impending war. She informed her mother she was going to see how Lommy was doing and her mother just nodded. Arya ran off and quickly got directions from the nursing station as to where to go. She went into the elevator, pressing the button to go two floors up.

Arya was shocked to see Lommy sitting in the bed with tears running down his whitened face. He whispered to her, "The war started, I know. Shitmouth the clown came by. He...touched me...said..he had a van...he's going to do things to me...worse than what he did..."


	26. No More Pasta

Gregor cursed as he broke another three wooden stakes. Giving in to his temper, Gregor attacked the fence and destroyed it. Unella and Sandor returned and began to load the truck. Now they stood there and watched him warily until he stopped and turned to glare at them. "THE FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT?" Both of them backed up slightly but then Sandor said with amazing nonchalance, "We are staring at you taking apart that fence. We can't load that wood until you are done. Are you done?" Gregor looked at the demolished, ruined wood and forced his temper down. It wouldn't be of any use to them until much later.

"This wood sucked. Sandor, grab the rest of last year's supply and load it. Woman, do you intend to starve us just before a hunt? Make lunch and make sure you pack enough food in case we get stuck out there tonight." Unella nodded and went inside, squinting for a moment in the sudden darkness. She didn't turn on a light, not only would Gregor become angry over wasting light but because she prefers the dark. It holds at least a false hope of coverage, hiding, safety. Unella was happy to leave the zombie in the daylight while the human hid in the shadows.

She nearly dropped a bowl full of pasta upon the floor when the doorbell rang. It was a foreign sound mostly, the Cleganes do not have friends. The rare times the bell sounds it is a delivery man for something they needed related to their work. Unella started to head for the front door as she heard Gregor yell to Sandor from the open back door. "I heard the doorbell! Did one of you two idiots order shit on my card while I was in the hospital?" Unella heard Sandor grumble that they didn't order a damned thing as she peered out the peephole.

Unella whipped the door open and stared at Cersei Lannister. "What...What are you doing here?" The woman was looking as elegant as ever but her face has gone from resting bitch face to resting murder face. Her blond hair was ragged and shortened to a painfully shorn level. Bald spots, some with blood still clotting. Cersei was wearing a black mourning dress, complete with gloves and a pair of black rubber galoshes. "What happened to your hair? You aren't well, I heard of your son and husband, my condolences. Can we call someone for you?"

When Unella tried to steer Cersei towards the porch swing while awkwardly still holding her pasta bowl, the woman pulled away and smirked. In spite of her very odd appearance and murderous expression, Cersei spoke clearly enough. "Stop blocking me and treating me like I've gone insane and senile. I cut my hair off in a moment of drunken grief, the galoshes are so I don't ruin any of my expensive shoes in your untamed lawn. Now that I've had to share painful private things, have I earned the right to come inside to speak with you? I need your help, Sandor's too." Unella cleared her throat and before she could say anything, Cersei walked into the house as if it were hers.

Unella cursed herself and followed her inside, imagining wringing the fancy woman's neck. "I have to tell you something, Cersei." The blond woman wasn't listening and just walked into the kitchen. The breeze from the open back door came through and Cersei shivered. "Make us some tea or give us some of that old good stuff that wife beating monster former husband of yours used to get from my lecherous, alcoholic former husband." A prayer that Gregor wasn't close enough to hear that, Unella spoke fast but Cersei kept talking right over her. "Cersei, Gregor isn't-"

"Oh for fucks sake! Unella, we spoke of this at the spa the day he died! You can be free now, a whole different woman now that that fucking beast is dead! Do you think we all didn't know your helpless, tragic horror story? I was in the same school, only one year behind, dear. All of the students knew about how you were forced to marry that towering wildebeest after he attacked you. You spent your life being raped and beaten and ordered around by that fucker, but its over! Remember that you are finally a free strong woman with rights! And the one good thing I think Gregor ever did for you was train you in the Clegane specialty work. Oh yes, of course I knew, those of us who grew up to sign the paychecks know what you do. Gregor trained you and Sandor to do things most cannot do, cannot face or handle. I need you to use this to help me, Unella! I need you to find me Sansa Stark, to bring her to me or at least bring me her head? That bitch killed my son! Forget that old disgusting mountain who only deserves your most bitter hatred and disregard and help me!"

A familiar rumble came along with the tower of gray flesh and black eyes. "Unella needs to ask her disgusting towering wildebeest of a wife beating husband for permission to help you, Cersei." Unella bit her lip and Sandor just sighed as Cersei slowly turned to see a zombie that she just dreadfully insulted. If Cersei hadn't already witnessed her disemboweled son or an actual werewolf, she might have fainted dead away in shock. Instead, Cersei gave a tiny scream that she cut off and then gave a small firm nod. Her voice was tight but it was calm. "Very well then. If I can accept werewolves, I can accept zombies. Unella, I wish you would learn to speak up and not be so timid. That was information I needed to know."

"I AM NOT A ZOMBIE! I AM NOT DEAD!" Gregor roared and he leaned over Cersei in a most dreadful sort of way that made both Sandor and Unella worry. The cool blond simply blinked at the ferocious face and responded, "Fine. You look quite dead and were reported as such by many so it was a natural assumption, Gregor. I am sorry for my insults even if everything I said was utterly true. It was crass to say it in front you. My mission here is still the same whether its you, Sandor or Unella that does this for me. I want Sansa Stark, that werewolf cunt killed my beloved son! You know I can pay anything, I still have power and sway as well as money. Name what you need or want and you'll have it. Bring me that ginger bitch and I'll-"

Gregor was still in the woman's face, hearing her arrogant words, assuming the Cleganes will hop for her. Cersei doesn't understand no and the Cleganes never turned down a request from her family nor from any other family that knows of their specialties.  The pasta in the bowl in Unella's hands didn't appeal to Gregor and he knew it wouldn't though he was prepared to pretend eating it. That was the initial plan but this woman with pale sweet smelling skin won't shut up and Gregor hated her. He hated her for who she was, he hated her for always getting what she wanted easily, he hated that this cunt dared to sway Unella into rebellious thoughts. Gregor had no idea he was going to eat Cersei's face until he was doing it.

The bowl of pasta shattered on the floor but Gregor didn't care about the loss of food costs or the loss of the bowl or the mess. He certainly didn't care about the pasta since he found something much tastier to have for lunch.

 

Cat sat holding Bran's hand as he lay unmoving in the hospital bed. The monitor showed that his heart was beating and Cat wasn't a nurse but it seemed too slow. The doctor assured her it was fine, the new drugs and the surgery were successful. Bran was alive and would wake up soon, Dr. Qyburn has assured her. She wondered why Bran's old doctor hasn't returned any of her calls. According to Dr. Qyburn, Dr. Pycelle was pressed indefinitely into coroner service and is quite busy. Cat was worried about the grayish tinge to her son's skin but again was reassured that these things all will change with time. That she must be patient, the boy just survived a terrible fall and surgery. He barely lived at all and Cat needed to be grateful rather than suspicious.

The repulsive man Cat hated and yet was grateful to for saving her son's life, he made her feel shameful, petty and guilty for asking about Bran's health. If she were not worn down by grief, exhaustion and immense worry she might have become the usual blazing supermom she was. But she was too worn down and she took the excuse of Arya to accept Qyburn's urge for her to go home. Cat called Roose as soon as they entered the house, she barely noticed her daughter fly to her room. She heard the discouraging news that Sansa has not been found and neither has the killer of Ned and Jon. "Roose, was it a human killer or really wild wolves?" The soft voice told her that he had leads but couldn't discuss them yet.

A knock on the door and Cat slumped, it was probably her sister ready to hammer her down mentally, under the false pretense of assistance. Luckily, it was Petyr, the only real friend Cat ever had. In school, she was expected to be friends with certain kids and date those her parents approved of. They were never close with Cat, she despised all the pretense. However, Petyr was a foster kid, he was different and truly liked Cat for herself, not her family or social status. Even now, Petyr still remains her friend after all these years. He came in and held her hand, looking deeply into her eyes, the raspy voice soothed her as always.

"My poor Cat. I am so sorry I haven't seen to you sooner. I have already made the arrangements for your husband, son and stepson to be honored in a lovely private town ceremony. However, I do have something to tell you. I am afraid that after Dr. Pycelle examined the remains...he cremated them. He felt it was for the public safety since it involved a possible unknown beast." And it was all she could take, really. Cat crumbled and allowed Petyr to hold her as she sobbed with heartbreak. Arya grimaced from the kitchen doorway and slipped out the back door. Only Petyr saw her go and he could use the privacy so he winked and Arya acknowledged it with a tiny nod of thanks as she left.

 

Arya headed downtown to meet Hot Pie. They had discussed what happened with Lommy and wanted to meet to discuss a course of action. When Lommy is released, Petyr will see to it that he is stuck in some foster home. They won't understand and know how to protect Lommy. Plus, Lommy doesn't want another foster home anyway. Hot Pie and Arya needed to find a way to help him run from the hospital as soon as he is able. And they need to discuss what to do about their revenge tactics, they needed to have more than a basic battle plan.

She was halfway to their meeting place at the library, they figured Polliver and Tickler would never go there, when Arya saw the smoke. A fire engine shrieked past and headed down the street that the gym was, the one Hot Pie's uncle owned. Arya ran and saw it burning to the ground with Hot Pie and his uncle both watching in numb misery. Choking on the smoke, Arya ran up to her friend and tried to hug him, he stood there and muttered, "Polliver did this. He threatened and warned me he'd do it and the fucker did it."

Hot Pie's uncle walked over and put a gnarled finger in his nephew's face. "This is because of whatever shit you and your friends caused. Don't even fucking try to deny it! Polliver made sure to leave a message at my bar for me to tell me that MY ENTIRE LIVELIHOOD IS BEING DESTROYED BECAUSE MY COWARDLY FAT STUPID NEPHEW DECIDED TO PISS OFF THE WRONG PERSON!" Arya stood in shock as Hot Pie's uncle slapped his nephew's bruised face. "Do you know what they did to him?" Her outraged question didn't do anything but make the man angrier.

"Shut up! You are the bad influence that caused this shit! I told him to get better friends but this blob couldn't manage to find anyone desperate enough to hang with someone like him but you and those other fucking degenerates! Now look what you've done! After all I've done, Hot Pie! Took you in after your parents went missing, raised, sheltered and fed you! It's all gone because of you and your friends! Well, go stay with your friends then. I mean it, pack your shit and go. I can't afford you now and frankly, I can't look at you! Get out! Now! Be gone before I get home or I swear, I'll drag you before Polliver myself!"


	27. Getting To The Meat Of Things

Sam wasn't brave enough to bring his child back to their cabin in the woods. But he wasn't coward enough to take Roose's offer of leaving town either. When he had told Damon and Alyn on their way out of the police station of his dilemma, Alyn shrugged. "When my parents died they left me our home and it's too big for me. I shut down half of it during the winter to save on heat. You and your son can stay with me as long as you need to. We have to share a kitchen and living room but there is plenty of space for privacy. A fenced in yard, a small one but enough for little Sam. And I can show you my research!"

It was a good solution and Damon was nice enough to accompany Sam to get their items from the cabin while Alyn babysat the cheerful toddler. When they returned with hastily loaded boxes, they received no greeting or help. Alyn and baby Sam were outside in the yard throwing leaves at each other while hollering. For a moment it wasn't clear which one of them seemed happier. Damon hung around to help them get settled and then he stayed for dinner. Alyn and Damon both could cook, it was that or live on delivery pizza, both could only take so much pizza. Sam could make organic baby food, he knew how to create a garden of vegetables but he couldn't boil an egg if his life depended on it. That was something Gilly dealt with along with most other domestic things and Sam fumbled through only when she was with the flu or something.

Damon and Alyn poked fun at him, telling him he was going have to take careful lessons from them. Sam has never considered these two men anything more than high school bullies turned adult assholes. As Sam cut tomatoes into clumsy chunks he blurted out, "You know, in school, you two were real bullying jerks. I mean way before Ramsay even showed up! I was a little kid and I remember you being such assholes! Knocking shit out of my hands at lunch, kick me signs on my back, taunting me during gym classes! Stealing my allowance, shoving me around, you two didn't let up until Jon and Robb made you. Now you are almost human beings." Both Damon and Alyn stared at him then at each other and burst out laughing.

Shrugging, Alyn and gave a half apologetic smile. "Yeah, we sucked. I mean I could give excuses but really, bullying was sort of just what we did. Then Ramsay came along and it got even faster, more interesting. Then...or rather now..." Damon shook his head but then mumbled, "To be honest, Ramsay doesn't seem to be changing, growing up the same way we are. I mean, I am never going to be a good guy, Sam. You might be, you are, always have been, but I'm just me. I have my own morals and ethics, you know? Alyn lost his edge for violence once he started to really get into his conspiracy stuff. He mainly just pretended for Ramsay's sake. But we are trying to make lives now and Ramsay just wants...I don't know what he wants. Sometimes I think he should be over on the side of Polliver's merry gang of sadists. But he's our friend and I know that right now he is going crazy trying to find Theon. It's just...I can't waste my time looking for one person that had every reason to run away. I mean, we know what is out there now!"

Alyn rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Some of us have been telling others what's been out there all along." Sam smiled and finished the last of the tomatoes. Frowning, Damon stared at the terrible chopping job and asked, "Why won't you tell us who the clown really is? I was fine with all of us not telling Roose about him. That's another thing, Polliver and Tickler didn't want the clown mentioned either. They agreed way too easily on it. I mean, with Alyn's werewolves and who knows what else out there, it makes me nervous. You are a pacifist, you don't just throw someone into harms way on purpose. He has to be someone or something awful, really awful for you to do that. Hell, you let Polliver and Tickler stay in your house until it was safe."

Sam stiffly responded, "I helped the both of you beat those bastards up, that is why I let them stay. And that isn't very pacifist of me, is it? I cannot tell you who he is. I want to, I really do. But in this town, sometimes the truth can get buried and if you don't keep silent, you get buried too. I have a child to take care of. So I can't tell you anything. I'm sorry. All I can say is that he is no clown, more like the devil in disguise."

Alyn stared at Sam in alarm. "A devil! Or a demon? Oh, god, is it possession?" Damon groaned and swatted Alyn in the head but Sam grimly shook his head. "No, he is human, just flesh and blood but a monster, a devil just the same. Look, just...he is an evil person, a terrible disgusting man and if you ever see the clown, never go near him unless it's to put a bullet in his head, but then someone would kill you! If you see Shitmouth bothering...bothering those that cannot get away from him safely, help them get away from him. I won't risk my son, I won't risk it just to satisfy your curiosity! He clearly isn't a werewolf or he wouldn't have sought shelter at the cabin in the first place. I can assure you he isn't a vampire, witch, zombie, or anything but a human monster!"

Sam was in tears, his breath was hitching and his voice had become a frantic scream and for one brief moment both Damon and Alyn had the same exact thought. That Sam Tarly looked exactly like Theon Greyjoy when he first became Reek. There were no more questions and Alyn simply started to discuss how to chop onions without stinging his eyes and they ignored Sam as he tried to stop crying. Strangely, the toddler wandering the kitchen hadn't been scared by his father's sudden freak out.  This made Damon feel kind of sad because he spent some time in this town's version of juvenile detention and he remembered how none of them would be too upset when someone would have a screaming nightmare or flipped out, tearing at the walls. Because they were used to seeing it, it was desensitizing. 

 

 

Right off, as soon as the first crunch of Gregor's strong teeth went into Cersei's fine boned face, Sandor was in the sink vomiting. Unella was just numbly looking down at the pasta and bowl shards thinking of the mess to clean. Then she made the mistake of looking up a bit and seeing that Cersei's limbs were flailing, there were gurgling sounds. Gregor had his strong hands holding tightly to the sides of Cersei's head and from Unella's angle it seemed for a moment as if her husband was giving this woman a passionate kiss. Then he pulled back a bit and she saw the last of the woman's tongue slip into Gregor's mouth. 

Unella skidded in the pasta on her way to the sink to join Sandor in losing all control of her gag reflex. Tears and bile were washed away before Unella gained enough control to stand up. Sandor had just barely managed to pull himself upright and he found himself leaning against Unella. The two looked like a strange swaying tree as they tried hard to gain composure. They both knew running was not an option. Gregor never reacted well to that and right now, it might cause him to turn those teeth onto them. Sandor couldn't take it though, he just couldn't and he knew he needed to get out of the kitchen at least.

"I...I need to go finish getting ready for our work today. I'm going to go shower and change, suit up. Check the weaponry and our supplies one last time. Hoping that Gregor will be done with his...lunch by the time we need to leave. Ahem. Uh, I'm not hungry for lunch myself, I'll just bring some granola and shit...yeah." Unella watched warily as Sandor started to inch his way out of the room. Gregor's face was covered in gore and Cersei even more so but at least she seemed dead. One black eye seemed to track Sandor's movement and a growl was heard. "Get ready. We leave on schedule." Sandor nodded and flew up the stairs.

Unella tried to edge out of the room too and Gregor's voice stopped her dead in her tracks. "Not you. This bitch, I heard the things she was telling you, the things she said. Is that where you went? Who you went to when you were told I died? Right to Cersei's fucking gossip salon? To the Mayor's fucking wife, Unella? The biggest gossiping cunt in town and you just unloaded how sad and free you were? I want you to watch what I think of your fucking new friend, what I think of these stuck up cunts. Because I swear, wife, if you ever decide to see what freedom or friends are like again, I will do this to you. Do you fucking hear me, Unella?"

It took two tries to speak past the drowning fear and burning bile swelling in her throat. "I hear you, Gregor. I'll watch. I don't want any freedom or friends. I won't ever act so stupid again." Unella watched and twice she allowed herself to vomit right into the broken pasta at her feet rather than risk looking away to use the sink. She didn't vomit until she noticed that Cersei wasn't dead, twitching, a sickening sound from her ruined vocal chords. Gregor finally ripped through the delicate lovely throat and Cersei went limp. Unella was grateful when a moment later, Gregor finally was sated and let go of the half eaten woman.

Unella stood there while Gregor walked over to the sink and washed the gore off his hands and face. Then he seemed to notice the disgusting mess in front of Unella and he growled at her. "Are you going to just let your mess lay there until it dries? What's wrong with you, clean it up!" She stared at him for a moment then began to clean up the mess, cutting herself on bowl shards with shaking fingers. "Gregor, did the doctor list cannibalism as a possible side effect?" Unella couldn't believe she said that but it was too late to take back.

Luckily, eating that woman seemed to improve his mood and he gave Unella a superior look. "She had it coming. Besides, you know I hate pasta but you made it anyway. The bitch wasn't about to shut up and let me just force down your awful cooking. I solved two problems. She shut the fuck up and I got to eat something besides pasta. I think I might go on an all meat diet." Unella said nothing to that but Sandor gave a strangled laugh as he finished coming down the stairs, his wet hair plastered to his skull. "Are you shitting me? That's what you are going to go with?" Gregor turned those black eyes to his little brother and headed towards him. He was still bloody in parts of his face, flesh in his red stained teeth and his clothes were coated in Cersei's blood.

Sandor backed up and put his hands out, palms up. "Sorry, bad jokes, I'm sorry. I am just nervous because you are eating human beings, Gregor. It's new, like your skin and eyes and strength. We are still getting used to it all. I don't know what to do about your new diet. I mean...can't go to the grocery store, buy package meat for us and steal the plumpest cashier for you. Folks will notice." It was an open hand slap and Sandor's head snapped to the side and he staggered into the wall, dazed. "I've had enough of your joking now. Get the fuck ready and since you are so concerned, you can move her body into the basement freezer then clean the mess here. Unella already cleaned up her mess, you little brother, as always, will help clean up mine."

 

 

Later on, after Sam and his son went to bed, Damon and Alyn went for a walk. "What the living fuck happened in there? I mean, what the fuck did this clown do to him? Who is this fucking person that he is so afraid of? And...did you see the kid's reaction? Nothing, like oh, hey, daddy is just flipping his fucking noodle again, must be Tuesday. I mean, what the living fuck was that?" Alyn only swore that much when he was truly upset and Damon patted his friend's back hard as they walked.

"Hey, pull it together. Some folks have bad things that haunt them, PTSD shit, you know that. He looked like Reek when we talked about it, about the clown. Something clearly happened that was really bad. Like maybe with Ramsay or...worse because it makes me think this might be something from his far back past. Like when he was a kid. I don't think we should mention it to him again. But I really worry when he says if we see the clown to help kids get away or kill the clown if we can. I mean, that's really heavy and makes me kind of sick."

Alyn shook his head and bit at his lip as they walked and started to move faster and faster and Damon knew what that meant. He groaned and rolled his eyes as Alyn's thick finger went straight up towards the growing moon. In a very determined voice, Alyn announced, "We won't talk to Sam about it, no point in tormenting him. But we must find out who this clown is, why Sam is so scared of him. We have to, to help him and to get this clown off the streets. Damon, this isn't an obsession, listen to me! Sam is NOT the type of person to lie and he certainly isn't the type of person to deliberately keep quiet about someone who he KNOWS is a true monster like a child molester or murderer! Why would he do that and the fear, that fucking look on his face...we have to find out. It happened when he was younger, I am sure of that much. So let's start there. Time to investigate Sam's past and find the clown in it."

Damon shook his head and then grabbed Alyn's shoulders and stuck his face down into it. "Okay, buddy, friend, listen carefully to me. I do not have the luxury you do, dearest chuckles. Play detective on your own, I have fucking WEREWOLVES eating my town and my job too! I am the FUCKING ANIMAL CONTROL OFFICER AND ANIMALS ARE EATING THE TOWNFOLK! So please, professor, put on your monocle and patchwork elbow suit coat and go for it, but leave me out of it. If you find out who it is and can PROVE it, then I'll get involved if I can. But since you are my good bestest buddy, I hope you can tear away from both your time as a roommate, babysitter, historian, detective and professor to maybe tell me your fucking theories on werewolves so I can keep both my job and my life while I'm hunting these fucking things!"    

Alyn cleared his throat and began while Damon started to whine out, "Not right this fucking second, Alyn, come on...you know I won't be able to remember jack shit, yeah, fine keep going...uh huh....where the fuck do I get silver bullets, asswipe? Are you SHITTING me? How the fuck do I figure out how the leader is? Where the hell do I find hunters that can kill these things? No...NO! You are fucking nuts, why do I listen to you? You are crazy and here I am just listening to this shit. Roose would fucking laugh me out of his office. God. Ain't no such thing, Alyn. Monster hunters that live in certain towns, cursed towns? Flat out fucking bugnuts and here I am wasting time. Okay, I have to head home, I have to report to Roose in the morning over this shit and I need to get some sleep."

 

Damon shook his head that night as he lay in his bed in a small apartment over the sub shop. He swore he could hear wolves howling and he swore, rolling over. Putting the pillow over his head helped the sound but not his mind. Alyn's voice came back babbling of cursed towns that both monsters and monster hunters were drawn to. How sometimes the monster hunters can be useful but just as harmful as the monsters in other ways. Damon forced his fucking irritating friend out of his head and started to fall asleep.

Just before he fell into a jagged brutal night terror, Sam's face looking like Reek's face flashed into Damon's head. He woke a bit later screaming up at the moon. For just a moment, Damon recalled a brief second of the dream. A classroom, a children's classroom and younger Sam was there, Damon was there and he was child sized too. Others, he saw Gilly, Jon, he sees the teacher and begins to cry. Shitmouth the clown was making them hear stories and they were always scary. But if you cried, you lost the game and here he comes, licking your tears and those teeth are SHARP and-

Damon flew to the bathroom, screaming, sweating and began to throw up in the toilet. It all went away back far down and Damon had no idea what he dreamed that gave him this reaction. He reached a shaking hand into the cabinet and took out his anxiety medication, taking one pill and swallowing it with water from the bathroom faucet. Night terrors and these strange panic attacks he has had since forever are usually only bad when Damon is stressed out.

He needs to calm down, figure out this werewolf thing and then go back to normal. I don't want to know what Alyn finds out, I don't care about Sam's problem, I have my own. Damon took a nice hot shower and scrubbed himself carefully. His face and eyes burned but he washed them another four times just in case. He dried off, put on heavier pajamas then made sure the doors and windows were all securely locked in case of werewolves that can turn back into human form.

Then without allowing himself to think of why, Damon checked his closet and under his bed in case of clowns. The pill knocked Damon out twenty minutes later and he never knew that he cried, flinched and looked like how Reek did when he slept.


	28. Dangling Bait

Arya started to head towards her house, consoling Hot Pie the whole way when she suddenly stopped dead. "Oh shit, we can't go there. Petyr has swooped on in and if he finds out your uncle kicked you out....he'll stick you in foster care!" Hot Pie shuddered and started to walk quickly in the opposite direction of the Stark home. "No fucking thank you. Principal Baelish can go suck a dick, I'm not going into foster care, heard all about that nightmare from Lommy and Gendry." Both of them had wet eyes for a moment, thinking of Gendry. No one cared, no one grieved but them and there wasn't even a body to bury for a reminder to the world of their friend.

"Let's go visit Lommy before visiting hours end! I'll think of a place to sleep by the time we finish our visit. I'm resourceful and you are clever. Add Lommy, who knows all about good places to hide overnight and we are all set!" But when they got there, Lommy's room was empty, a carefully stripped bed. All the nurse at the station could say was the boy was well enough to be moved. "Was is the social worker that took him? Did he get taken to foster care or the holding pen?" The woman blinked at Hot Pie's words and muttered, "Dear goodness, nothing of the sort. His brother picked him up." Arya and Hot Pie turned pale. "Uh, excuse me? Can you tell me, which brother picked him up? Did he give a name?" 

The nurse was getting both annoyed and confused. "If you know this boy than surely you know his brother! Or..Are you telling me this child has no brother?" As much as both wanted to scream for the now nervous looking woman to call the police and report a kidnapping, they didn't. "No, Lommy has three brothers and we didn't know which one has picked him up. They each live in a separate location." Huffing now, the woman quickly looked down at a small pile of papers and riffled them, scanning. "His brother only signed Lommy out under what looks like a scrawled P and then a T."

They thanked the nurse and ran for the elevator. "They have Lommy. Why didn't he try and scream and not go with them?" Hot Pie looked at Arya and gave her a sad look. "Because the other choice was to stay and have Petyr throw him into some foster home or the holding pen. Plus, I'm sure they made sure he didn't feel safe to defy them. I know just how good Polliver is at convincing someone to act in their worst interests to survive." Arya gave a scream of frustration in the elevator and kicked the wall of it hard. "How do we save him? Help him? Do you have any idea where Polliver might take Lommy?"

Nodding, Hot Pie followed Arya out into the hospital lobby. "Lommy is going to be human bait, the main terror tactic. If we go to save him, they are going to be waiting for us and Lommy might already be maimed or dead by then anyway." Arya narrowed her eyes at Hot Pie as they went out the doors into the dark parking lot. "Are you wimping out? If so, you have to decide right now, then if you can't do this, you have to leave town. You have to or Polliver will eventually find you and murder you. So if you are too scared, take my offer of a bus ticket and get the fuck out of town. I can't take another death of someone I care about." Hot Pie gave a tiny smile.

"I'm not running away, Arya, I'm trying to be smart about things. I know Polliver and Tickler, I know their tricks. This is one of them. Sometimes they would do their dirty work right in the gym, this was just before they started to break off from sports and head into drug dealing as a fucking career. They would be mad at a person for something and they would kidnap someone that person loved or cared for. That person would be hurt, usually released once the right person showed up and paid the price they owed or deserved. Lommy is our bait. We can't take the damned bait, Arya. If we do, they have us and we are good as dead.  They won't let Lommy go once they get us either. He was part of it and so we all pay and will be buried under the fucking earth after a really long painful time. And this party we are being lured towards with Lommy? I bet Shitmouth and Raff will be there too. Think of what they all will do to you alone? Never mind what they will do with me and Lommy. It sucks but we have no choice but to come up with a better plan."

Arya shook her head and stomped to the bus stop. "We need help. At least to get Lommy out while we plan our attacks. We have to hit them hard and soon or else they will catch us all one by one. Can't go to police, parents or nurses. My siblings would have, my brothers..." Hot Pie held Arya while she cried and blew snot all over his jacket without complaint. When she was depleted of all tears, Arya wiped her nose on her hand and apologized to her friend for his very damp jacket. "We have to find someone mean enough to take them on but nice enough to help us out in the first place. And won't tell on us." Hot Pie rolled his eyes. "Good luck with that." Smiling just a little, Arya said, "I actually think I might have an idea."

 

Petyr has goals and most of them have been met or are on track to be met in the future. It has always been about careful planning and grooming of himself and others. Here he had only Varys to share the glory with, both of them as acting mayor at this crucial time. With joy, Petyr had been able to check that off his list so much sooner than he expected. And here is the other windfall, long overdue and it was even more special as it was a goal he could never achieve but tried for in the past. He had carefully noticed each of his peers in school. The girl with the red hair and reserved smile who seemed to be gracious yet chilly to all was Petyr's target. She was not only rich, popular and connected, something about her resonated with Petyr.

It was with true surprise that as Petyr carefully mapped out his lures and traps for Cat to walk into, he found himself falling in love. Only with Petyr did Cat actually say what she really felt and meant. And together they had fun, they enjoyed the same music, movies and books. Petyr found himself involved in the right circles along with his friend. And what really hurt was that Petyr seemed to be destined to remain as only a friend. It should have been enough, as Cat's best buddy, it got him where he wanted to be. However, Petyr was almost insane with need to kiss, to hold and someday marry Cat. Thank god that Varys moved into town, dumped into foster care one year after his parents mysteriously died.

Having a new friend that shared almost the exact same values and desire for power at all costs helped soften the blow. Cat's parents were firm on her going out with and marrying Ned Stark. Varys had convinced Petyr to stay the supportive friend and help ease Cat into her stubborn parents orders. When Cat fell in love with her husband in the early years of their marriage, Petyr was nearly suicidal. Only Varys kept him using his emotions to further his ambitions during that dark time. When Cat had her children, Petyr was already in charge of the foster care program and what the kids refer to as the holding pen. He knew how to act around kids and Ned was indifferent to Petyr as it was. It only furthered his bond with Cat when the kids started to call him uncle.

Varys brought him into the town school system then and now together, here was the role of mayor and here was Cat. Now that Ned was dead, Cat was so weakened and sad, Petyr knew he could have her. It wouldn't be hard to convince her to let him play father to the little brats and become her consolation husband. He was fine with being a consolation prize. Cat allowed Petyr to see to all the details of the services for her dead and she allowed him to be her voice for the social and media attention of the family.

Right now, Petyr was helping Cat into a nice hot bubble bath and bringing her more wine. He assured her that Lysa was perfectly capable of watching Rickon. Petyr assured her that if the hospital called, he would answer it faster than it could finish a single ring. And informed her that Arya was in her room asleep. He gently washed Cat's hair and wondered if she would become amendable to boarding school for the children once they married?

 

Arya and Hot Pie became increasingly nervous about being out in the dark streets where they can be easily taken by their enemies. They beat on the apartment door at the top of the stairwell next to the sub shop. Nothing and they tried harder but not so loud as to disturb anyone walking by. Every time someone did wander by, Hot Pie would tense, waiting. "This was a shitty idea. We can't stay here any longer. Being in the busiest section of downtown during fall at night is a bad fucking idea. Someone who knows them will even just accidentally mention us and boom. We are dead meat." 

"Fine. Let's get less exposed and try a different idea. Same goal, new way." Hot Pie followed Arya down the stairs wondering what her new way was. It was not a good way as far as he was concerned. He wasn't a particular fan of heights and unlike the stairwell, the back alley fire escape was narrow and rusted. "I am never going to make it up that tiny fucking thing. I have to wait here, Arya. There is a place I can hide, right under that mattress leaning over there. Besides no one can see into this alley and there is no reason for them to check for us here. Yet. So hurry. I hope your plan works."

Arya nodded and flew up the fire escape to climb on the platform in front of Damon's window. Carefully, she tried to open it first, thinking to call in to him. It was locked and she sighed, starting to rap upon it and lightly call to the form in the bed. She knew it was him, he was really tossing and turning in there. She knocked harder and suddenly watched him sit straight up, stare at her and scream.


	29. Seasonal Work Needed

Silent, invisible, predators began to slink through the marsh, the woods, the ravines. Watching for prey, sniffing deep of the air, eyes scanning every movement and judging it with expert eyes. The sunlight was barely there anymore, only small pinkish rays here and there but even with that much light, these hunters were hard to spot. Melding into their environments, only perhaps a glint of eye might give them away to a very observant creature. They had no particular smell to draw others near or away. Their smell was of nature itself, they smelled of dirt, leaves, swamp, manure of several animals and marsh mud.

This was always when Unella suddenly remembered it all. How much she LOVED being a Clegane, how it was worth it, no matter what Gregor ever put her through, it was worth it to have this wonderful amazing true FREEDOM. This is why they live so frugally, so carefully, this is why Unella and Sandor sacrificed having friends, having any other kind of life. This is the reason that Unella did somehow always feel something sickening like warmth towards her husband, because she was chosen, he has let her be part of this.

Unella has endured much in her years under Gregor's brutal rule but there was some true joy. Not at first of course. No, it took some time before Unella was able to understand fully. But to this day, Gregor still continued the same traditions with her as always and it never failed to make Unella grateful to be there. Gregor sometimes reminds Sandor that someday he will be having the same traditions with his own wife.

Sandor always scoffs but Gregor has already begun to eye certain women around town. Unella knows Sandor isn't far from his own forced marriage soon. It was the reason that Gregor's father beat his son with a piece of pipe when Unella miscarried. They needed to create a child to train into the family business. Unella used to sometimes wish to hold a child of her own but it was lost in the joy of knowing instead of a brood mare, she was a hunter.

Just like when she was sixteen and trembling, confused and terrified, Gregor began to circle her just as they entered the woods. Except now Unella didn't tremble and she wasn't scared or confused. Now she stood straight and excited, this was the part she could never see anyone like Cersei, Cat or anyone ever understanding. Yes, Gregor was a horrible husband and person but Unella did have deep respect for him. Out here, Unella trusts him like no other except maybe Sandor.

In some horrid way, Unella does love Gregor while they are out here, often after their hunts, they will have sex in the woods before heading home. It is the only time Gregor makes Unella orgasm and she screams with it. She isn't the same out here and the men aren't either. And Unella loves this time of year, she remembers that now and sees in Sandor's eyes the same revelation.

Gregor leads and as always they follow. Unella gives herself over to the nature and to her training and it is the one time she holds nothing back. Even with his new appearance and attitude, it doesn't seem to matter when they hunt. She didn't flinch or mind when his cold strong hands commenced their usual ritual. Unella allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of nature being smeared, rubbed all over her by him. His voice was the same as always, as every year and it always delved straight into her brain and her soul.

The first time she heard all this she was so young and scared, thinking he was bringing her to the woods to murder her. But even Gregor wouldn't hurt her out here, besides he needed her and Unella never fears that Gregor will kill her in the woods. Not ever, because here she was just as deadly as anything else. In fact, Gregor made her that way and his voice goes through her with a thrill that tingles through every part of her. Shallow breathing, eyes half shut, head pulled back and his hands, his voice, Unella sinks fast into it and feels her body preparing itself as if Gregor's voice somehow pressed buttons he installed within her.

"Unella, wife, you are chosen, special. You have a calling, a talent, a purpose that no other has. I chose you, I watched you and carefully judged your measure. You were so strong, so self possessed and you seem to know that you were for higher things than other girls, other boys. You won archery awards, went on hunts with your family and brought down elk when others could barely take a deer down and all of that before the age of ten! I watched you so carefully before I chose you for us, for our purpose. And I took you through blood and pain as it should be. You are a predator, a warrior and only your leader should be able to take you down. Only your leader, your husband, your mentor, should be stronger."

Unella agreed and covered in the fall earth until nothing of her smell or features remained, she was just a moving piece of scenery. Gregor continued to talk as Unella began to help him smear the earth upon his gray skin. As her hands moved on his cold flesh, the earth seemed to warm it again, her ears only hearing his voice.

"Only a woman with your fortitude and talents can look upon the monsters we must slay. Only a true believer and true monster slayer could be my mate, could help me hunt, it's our sacred duty, Unella. You are chosen for the most sacred work that no one will ever know you do. You are a hero, a silent warrior protecting your town, without ever a hint of thanks. You won't care, the hunt, the capture, the kill, it's the reward, it's in your eyes and your body.The most I ever have felt for you is in your role as my hunting mate. When you are covered in the blood of those you have taken down, I become in love with you. For that one moment, knowing that we are the few that can truly face evil and survive it, we are empowered by gods and I know that I need to taste that thrumming power upon you, upon us."

Even though Gregor says this every time, Unella still reacts to the words just as deeply. The training to become a Clegane monster slayer was a unique kind of hell that sometimes Unella didn't think she would survive. But here she is today, ready and no longer with any fears of blunders or getting killed by some creature that shouldn't exist, never mind destroy their town. Finally, he is done speaking and Unella is primed for action.

Gregor helps her fix her silver tipped arrows, her crossbow, to her back. He created their weapons, taught them how to care for them, use them and now Gregor makes sure Unella has all of hers with her. Then as always, Gregor grabs her neck and Unella goes slightly limp in surrender. Gregor leans close and kisses her, drawing a bit of blood for both of them to taste. Unella never pulls away and even though his mouth was cold, the in-the-woods version of Unella didn't care, she was a hunter, a warrior that deals death.

Unella waits then, fully loaded and holding sacks full of materials they will need to use. She waits patiently while Gregor goes through a version of the ritual for Sandor. He helps Sandor cover himself with muck and speaks earnestly to him, helps him set up his weapons then gives his brother a kiss on the forehead. Sandor's eyes are the eyes of a cult follower and Unella knows hers must look the same. It doesn't matter, it's fall, it is hunting season and the slayers are ready to begin their seasonal work. 

 

Varys sighed as he read the text one last time. Fucking Petyr is blowing him off for Cat yet again. By gods, he thought he got rid of Petyr's worst obsession with marrying her years ago. Now here he goes again, having to figure out how to pry that man back to their focus and goals. Right now of all times! Why couldn't Cat's husband at least have waited until they got settled into the groove of being mayor before dying? Highly inconsiderate of Ned but what is done is done and this is just something Varys will have to simply think about later on. Too much to do.

He spoke with Roose about the "wolves" situation. Varys agreed with Roose that werewolves was a silly thought, more likely feral dogs of some form. However, Roose called in specialized help for the woods and until further notice, no hunters, trackers or anyone not given permission may go near the woods until after Halloween. "Of course, Damon will tour the area and continue to search for the beasts...as usual, our specially trained hunters should be able to clean up this issue very soon." Varys knew exactly what Roose meant and smirked while speaking gently into the phone.

"Wonderful news to hear, Roose. Have your men post signs, put up chains, whatever is needed to keep anyone out of the woods. Of course, I understand it is impossible to keep everyone out of the woods. But this way if they do wander and get half eaten by an animal it isn't our town's fault. I hope your hunters can clear up this nasty business as soon as possible, Roose. Thank you for the update. I will see you tomorrow for the services. No, I have not been able to reach Cersei at all, I did stop by her house twice with no results. I am hoping she isn't missing or dead, Roose. That is a very worrisome thought. Perhaps you should do a well check? You did and nothing? Huh. Well, let me put some feelers out. It will be very awkward for her not to show up for her husband and son's service tomorrow. Maybe she is angry over the cremations without her permission still?"

There were so many things that were done by Cersei and Cat for the community. They were already planned out and even though the mayor wouldn't usually concern himself, this one would. As would Petyr, perhaps...or maybe not. If Petyr becomes too obsessed with Cat and leaves Varys to do the bulk of the work, Varys will take over and not feel a lick of guilt. Varys looked through the notes upon his desk, trying to decide where to begin. Oh no, the haunted house was a tradition that Cersei and Cat both ran. It was actually a few different haunts and they hired townsfolk and children to work for them. Perhaps due to the constraints of time and the loss of the main creators, Varys can change things a bit this year.

It could be the usual traditional town haunt only instead of so many of them. The huge empty barn that they always used was already mostly set up according to the past emails from Cersei. Perfect. It could be kid friendly during the day, teen friendly in the evening and adult friendly at night. Everyone gets the right scare and all Varys had to do was put out the word for haunters, monsters and a few artists to help with readjustments for a full service haunt. In spite of all the other things that must be attended to, Varys found himself stuck in the haunted house idea. He found himself mapping out some new scenes that could serve dual purposes in the haunt. With a small chuckle he thought to himself he might have found a new macabre hobby.

After awhile, Varys stood stretched and decided to be done with anymore mayoral or other duties for the night. He got himself a small drink of whiskey and added the slightest drop of liquid from a very tiny bottle. Downing the drink fast, Varys fluttered his eyes as his body felt smoother, calmer. Varys looked up at the utterly stunning moon before he shut the heavy curtains to his glass patio. He put on his coat and shoes, walked out to his garage and tried to decide which of his vehicles to take out for a spin to relax. His eyes lingered lovingly on his new motorcycle then snapped to another of his shiny transportations and grinned. Playing with his jeep was always fun too. So many choices and Varys found he loved having that much excess choice to worry about.

 

Damon desperately was trying so hard to not snap this kid's neck. "What the fuck are you peering in my window for? What is wrong with you, girl?" She had scared the shit out of him, his hands were trembling a bit so he hid them. Arya wasn't intimidated in the least by Damon's growl and spoke fast. "Please, I am sorry but I really need your help. It is too urgent to wait for morning to talk to you! Polliver and Tickler, they stole Lommy right from the hospital!"

"Then you should call the police! I am an animal control officer. If Lommy was kidnapped by a flock of birds, a pack of canines or a business of wild ferrets, then I'm your man. But Polliver and Tickler are human animals, that is Roose's department." Arya gritted her teeth in frustration. "Raff is the police, Damon! He is with Polliver and Tickler, remember? I can't ask my family for help or the authorities. Please, help me out? I only want you to help us get Lommy away from them, nothing else! Really!"

"Oh, that is a relief! I only have to ask a few sadistic drug dealing cuntburgers if they minded if I took away their revenge victim. Then I'm going to be part of your little fuck up war and I have no fucking time, energy or interest in it. Go away." Arya climbed into the window instead of following Damon's order and he groaned, covering his eyes. "Fine, use the door if you want. Just go away."

"No. I can't just go away, I really need your help, Lommy needs your help! I saw what you guys did to Polliver and Tickler, I saw their bruises. Whether you like it or not, you care about not seeing us punks get destroyed. Well, right now Polliver and Tickler, probably Raff and certainly our clown are all taking turns destroying Lommy. The clown already had molested Lommy and threatened him in the hospital before they came and stole him. They must have shown just after I left to go help Hot Pie. Polliver had burnt his uncle's gym down. Please, help Lommy? Please, Damon?"  

Damon had been continuing mouthing the word no, over and over until Arya mentioned the fucking clown. Mother fucking clown. Shit. Sighing heavily, Damon finally nodded tiredly.  "Okay, okay. Shitmouth the clown is no one to fuck with, kiddo. No matter what you think Polliver and Tickler can do, I bet the clown can do worse. You and Hot Pie need to keep your fucking distance from that clown. He molested Lommy in the hospital? Shit. Okay. I'm so fucking tired." Yet as Damon thought about poor Lommy, that stupid little punk with a broken leg, unable to defend himself against the clown that terrified and repulsed Sam so much, he gained some adrenaline.

"Go and get your buddy. I'll meet you in the drive way as soon as I get dressed. Stay hidden as much as you can in the shadows until I come out, just in case. Fucking punks forcing me to be part of your dumbass fucking war as if I don't have better things to do." Arya left as Damon continued to mutter as he tried to throw on clothing while texting both Sam and Alyn that he was on his way with something very important to discuss and he would be bringing some guests.  


	30. Worrisome Thoughts

Varys cruised smoothly in his new very expensive jeep onto the main street of his little town, smiling gently at all within in it like a benign king. His eyes saw everything, tracked every movement, recorded even the stillness, he and Petyr have always had this habit. Or talent, if you will, we are very talented men and even distracted we are talented. Being out in the air, among his small community always made Varys feel better as long as he didn't have to actually interact with him. He was wonderful at it, being social, but inside it made him want to scream and hide.

Varys was so happy to know Petyr knew exactly how that felt, it was part of what made them kindred spirits in a way. Now that he was centered and calmer, Varys decided he should be more lenient with his friend, after all, Petyr has spent most of his life waiting for two things, power and this one woman. He achieved one and finally is presented with a chance to nab the other. As Varys carefully went around the small garden rotary in the downtown area, he saw a rather young girl out walking towards the wharf and it made him frown. Was that little Shireen Baratheon? The kid that was so smart he wanted to cry over the lack of support for her from their limited academics and indifferent fucked up cultist parents.

As if no one knew, well, to be truthful, most may not. But of course Varys and Petyr knew, Roose knew and so did Ned and Robert. Which meant that at least Cersei knew and the Cleganes knew and have kept a watchful eye upon it by order of Robert himself. Varys highly disapproved of how it was all handled and several times he and Petyr voiced their opinions. And were ignored, then warned and finally simply ordered to shut the hell up or lose their supports. They shut the hell up, of course.

It made him feel so sad to see the poor kid out this late all alone. That meant yet again that priestess must be over screwing Shireen's father and telling her mother bullshit about her miscarried babies. How they can be brought back by worshiping this fire god. Robert didn't want to hurt his brother more than he wanted to save his niece. Roose and Ned didn't want the trouble, the personal business of their peers all spread out for the town. Imagine the reaction of a fire cult spreading around? Teens would light trash fires and set off homemade bombs in pumpkins and half the town would show with rifles and hoses!

So in case this cult truly did some demonic work for a fire god, in this town it's certainly possible, Roose suggested it be turned over to those who keep watch of such things. Gregor was annoyed as they didn't enjoy spying every now and then as much as a straightforward hunt and slay. But they agreed and so far, they have only seen insanity and heavy drug use, no actual demonic forces. However, Sandor warned Roose that these cultists were real fire bugs and that so far they have been responsible for several large fires in the city. When Roose asked if the Cleganes could deal with them personally, the response was laughter. And then Gregor came to them all during a private meeting at the town hall to inform them that there was no further reason to watch this group.

"They have only half a damned ritual going over there, it's one that I have heard before, when done right, this would be concerning to me. These drugged up idiots don't have the full ritual, they don't even know it or have the right fucking book for it. That priestess is a con artist and now they are all addicts that owe a shit ton of money to some asshole in town. You should arrest the fuckers and get that girl a new home. We don't do that. I will check in every now and then in case they figure out that ritual, but I don't think it'll ever happen. They are your problem, not mine."

A car came shrieking on by, nearly hitting Vary's and he gasped, braking hard. He knew that car, that was Damon and Varys swore he just saw two more of his former students go flying by in that car. With a sigh, Varys shook his head. Some just never turned out right and Varys believed that the school system can only do so much. It was disheartening about both Shireen and those rotten apples.

This was not what Varys wanted to think about right now. He had to relax and so he decided to take his jeep elsewhere. Varys cruised more quiet streets and briefly had a though about the missing socialite widow of the mayor. What if the werewolves got her and she survived the attack? He knew that woman would come for him, Petyr and Cat first. Shuddering delicately, Varys envisioned a sleek blond wolf still wearing her gaudy necklaces as she lunged into his jeep to eat him.

Thank goodness as Varys passed the foggy wharf, he caught sight of a gaudily painted six foot wooden ice cream cone. He slid his car up to the curb and he could already taste the sweet goodness on his tongue. Ah, the perfect way to end his night and a way to forget these stupid ungrateful townsfolk that Varys wanted so badly to rule. Varys scanned the menu posted on the window, so many flavors, so many choices and when the wolves howled loud enough for him to hear, he was already too far in sweet bliss to care overly.

 

Unella and Sandor were fixing the last trap, one of many different kinds. As they started to camouflage the deep pit full of sharp stakes, they spoke softly with each other. "All I'm saying is the earlier the monsters start, the messier it usually is. Look how high the body count is now. Just like that year with the fucking vampires. Or that year with that damned demon that kept sending fucking scarecrows to tear folks apart, that was the worst for me! Those things scared the hell out of me, they even gave Gregor a start, remember?"

Unella nodded and gave a small smirk at that, then an actual small laugh. "Yeah, those things were the worst. I have to say the vampires were the most startling for me though. What ugly things they were!" Sandor chuckled. "They weren't glittery and they didn't want to fuck anyone, just suck your fucking blood out like leeches. Those sharp pointy heads, the teeth looked like those Angler fish things and long fingers, once they changed, boy, did they change!"

The vampires truly were the worst for Unella. Because when you killed one of them, they returned to human form just before they died. It was awful to see someone she has always seen around town die this way. It was not an easy death and Unella tried not to burn them to death when she had the choice. At least with a stake through the heart, the vampire turned human doesn't have to feel the agony of fire searing them away.

"Do you remember, there was that one man...he fell into a pit, actually might have even been this one. He looked so normal, so young and so sad, so scared, not for himself but for his little baby boy." Sandor grimaced and then recalled it. "Is that the one where you sat here on the edge and chatted with him for like fifteen minutes till he died?" "That's the one. I just felt so bad for him, he never chose to be bit and turn, he never wanted to hurt anyone, it was forced upon him. And yet, there was no other cure but to kill him. He laid there, coughing blood and his eyes rolling, he kept calling for Lommy." Sandor snorted, "What the fuck is a Lommy?"

"It was the name of his son. He told me the whole story as he died. He told me that his girlfriend got pregnant and they married, moved into a small apartment. But while he was going to college and working two part time jobs to support this new child and wife, his girl was becoming addicted to drugs. She was stealing things to support her habit, sucking up their money and pawning everything they had. "I am g..g..getting a div..divorce, taking my son. Lommy...can't s..s..stay with her...my son needs me." It was part of her now, that voice that finally died away but Unella accepts it like so many other things.

Sandor recalled what happened during that winter and he snorted again as he stood up, brushing leaves with his feet to arrange more coverage. "I seem to recall that Gregor was so pissed at you for what you did that he broke your arm in two places after he nearly broke your jaw."

"I had to interfere even if it's against our rules, I just had to. I couldn't forget how he said that poor boy was stuck with that woman. All I meant to do was drop off a small basket with food and such, a few gifts for the boy. It was the winter holiday charity time and it was a perfect cover. I only wanted to check on this young boy, that is all. But I saw that woman...right there in front of the child as if it didn't matter. Not only was she cooking meth in that little trailer with that boy breathing it in, there was a young man, scummy looking. She was older than him, he could have barely been more than a teenager and she was sucking him. That child had blood dried under his nose, naked, dirty and just sitting there, watching his mother while breathing in poison. I couldn't take it and I admit it was lack of judgment on my part. Right then I should have made an anonymous call to the police and went home. I know that but I saw what came next and just snapped, Sandor. That disgusting teenage drug dealer was leaving and gave the boy a candy bar as he left. The kid looked like he hadn't seen food in weeks and crammed the whole thing into his mouth. That piece of shit that called herself a mother, got herself a little higher then started to kick this Lommy kid, this tiny boy as he cried and begged his mother that he loved her and would be good. She told him he wasn't allowed chocolate and she made him puke it up. The bitch locked him in a cabinet under the sink and told him he would stay there until next week. That's when I entered her door, she never locked it, the stupid idiot. I slit her throat and unlocked the cabinet but I left before the child saw me."

Sandor shrugged. "You did your good deed and paid the price for it. But I always thought you did the right thing, Unella. No one cried over the loss of that woman, that's for sure." Unella finished her end of the coverage on the trap and stretched out before walking along with Sandor towards an upwards rocky area that they suspect might have caves for the werewolves to be hiding in. Her voice was even more hushed as she walked with Sandor.

"I always did wonder what happened to that boy. Last thing I heard was when they reported the death in the town paper he had been sent to foster care. Never tried to find out, figured I'd done what I could and that was that. But I always wondered about him. I hope he is safe now, I hope I really did save him. I couldn't give him back his dad but at least I got rid of his mother." Sandor patted her back briefly and drawled out, "I am sure the Lommy is fine. Probably living with some cushy family and happy as horse shit, never knowing a bad day in his little life." 

 

Lommy could only taste and smell urine, shit and blood.

His leg was a blazing ruin of towering pain that competed with Lommy's fear for some time now. The pain was winning, fear dimmed and he was done, he wanted to die. Not enough to tell these assholes yet, not enough to beg them to kill him, but it was going to come to that sooner rather than later. Bitterly, he wished he had dared to scream, to make a scene at the hospital. What they threatened there was less than what was happening to him now but he didn't see that then. Fucking hindsight. After the clown and the werewolves, Lommy really was starting to think Polliver and friends weren't that big of deal compared. He was so fucking wrong and there was no way to change the past. But he was pretty certain there won't be a future to worry about.

  He had been in a drug fueled sleep when something horrible woke him. Seeing Polliver and Tickler's bruised faces was not what Lommy wanted to see at all. The startled scream was muffled by Polliver's hand covering his mouth hard enough to hurt his jaw. "Heya, buddy! How are you feeling? Glad to see you haven't turned furry, after all. Great. We figured we'd come pay you a visit. Felt bad we couldn't come to see you before, had to send the clown. But we made time for you, aren't you honored?"Lommy had looked up at Polliver's face, his eyes positively twinkling with good cheer. That was not good at all, Lommy was sure of it.

"Now, I'd like you to promise me you aren't going to scream or flip out on me. Got that, little chief? Yeah, okay. Look over at Tickler, honey-bunches of fun. Do you see what he is holding? Wiggle it a little for him, Tickler. He's a bit druggy and foggy still, the poor guy." Lommy concentrated on staring at Tickler, then his waggling fingers and eyebrows. The malicious happiness in the man's eyes made him a little sharper as his eyes tracked the tube the man was holding. It seemed to disappear into the bottom of Lommy's bed. Then Tickler gave a few good twitches to the tube and Lommy felt a searing pain in his penis.

"Okay, that is good. He gets it now, right, Lommy boy? That is your catheter from that last procedure just a few hours ago. God, Tickler, imagine if that catheter was there when Shitmouth was here? Yikes, that would have been pretty awful. Luckily for you, Lommy, we give an option, a choice. Isn't that damned fucking considerate of us? You choose to yell or act like a fucking punk and Tickler rips that tube with it's little blown up balloon right out. Or, you can choose to stay quiet and do as I fucking say to and not have Tickler rip your uretha and dick into a nice wide tunnel. Totally your choice, bud."

So he was silent and still when Polliver removed his hand. He kept his eyes on that tube in Tickler's hand and his ears on Polliver's words. "We are going to pretend to be your brothers and take you home to recuperate, dear. Here is your next choice, my sweet little Lommy, you can come with us willingly or we are sending Shitmouth to kidnap you instead. He already told us all about his fun with you and about what he would like to further do to you. It's pretty sick shit, Lommy, way worse than anything I can think of. But it's us or the clown's playhouse of horrors, either way, you are caught and will be taken. What shall it be, pretty clown bait?"

Lommy didn't try to signal the doctor or the nurse as his catheter was removed and he was given release papers and scripts. Polliver took the crutches, the prescriptions and smiled brightly at the staff. Tickler handed Lommy new clothes to put on and Lommy was chilled. These were his own clothes, from the small place he crashed with Gendry. They were in his place, they had already won, which sucks, Lommy didn't even get to join the second half of this battle. Only as a victim, it was intolerable. Tickler carried Lommy from the wheelchair into the backseat of Polliver's car as if he were a gentled babe.

"Oh, in case you wanted to know, sad day today for some buildings. That shitty cockroach hellhole you lived in? It burnt down today, so sorry, dude. Hot Pie's uncle had a loss too. His gym burnt up, poor guy. I heard he kicked Hot Pie out of his house for it. How long can a fat homeless boy hide? I bet you'll have company real soon, Lommy! And my plans for Piggy...oh, you probably won't believe this, but I'm going to MERCIFUL to you, compared to what I'm going to do to Piggy." Tickler giggled and nodded. "Yep. Piggy gonna squeal before we boil his skin to sagging, then Polliver's gonna skin him. That is really bad, but wait until I get my hands on that bitch. I have such ideas..."

Lommy lay there as they drove towards their lair, he watched the backs of their heads then the lights of the houses disappear. Lommy saw Polliver's eyes watching him from the rear view mirror. Lommy saw his own torture and death in those eyes along with victory of how easy it was to take the first of the punks out. So Lommy smiled and studied the bruises on the man's face. "I hope when those three guys beat you two, it really really hurt. I mean, you both screamed like it did...did it? Did it really fucking hurt your body and your egos? I pray it did, I fucking loved watching it, you know."

Tickler turned around and put his lit cigarette out on Lommy's bare foot sticking from the cast. He grinned as the boy hollered in pain. "Yeah, it did hurt. But I swear, we will hurt you way more than that and way more humiliating."  They have kept that promise and Lommy still chooses this over the clown but he heartily wishes that he screamed at the hospital.

Lommy had endured being water-boarded in a toilet full of Tickler's latest shit. Polliver pissed on his face before kicking him until Lommy crawled around calling himself a fucking pussy like the asshole wanted him to. A rope was tied around his foot and Lommy had screeched as they hoisted him up upside down by his broken leg. The pain was so awful that Lommy kept fainting. It didn't matter to the men, they were busy playing their game. Tossing knives into the cast, sometimes the knife would actually go through the cast and Lommy would cry out as the blade dug into his skin, grating against re-broken bones.

Now he lay with blades bristling from his cast and wishing he had the strength to rip one out and plunge it into his own neck. Here comes the men, a quick phone call and some dope, now they are ready for more. Lommy isn't and starts sobbing, trying to crawl away from the approaching, laughing men. He heard a car approach and had one shining brief moment of hope. But Tickler slammed his boot into Lommy's skull, then the boot landed on Lommy's back when the boy fell from the first kick. "Shut up. A single sound, I am going to set you on fire for fun."

He stayed silent and vomit trickled from his mouth, the pain in his head contended with his leg and it was too much for his system. It was only Raff and Lommy sobbed a little more even when the men taunted him for it.


	31. Fog, Dogs And A Rubber Chicken

Shireen sat upon the bench and watched Euron's ship swaying gently. Funny that, it was never there in the morning and she hasn't seen the pirate once since their first meeting. She was so curious about him, it made her very sad that Euron killed Balon, he was such a great guy. Shireen wasn't mad at Euron though, she understood loving someone and hating them all at once. About how you could be someone's own blood and yet murder them if they need arose. She had seen it in Euron's eye that night and it was a sight she saw often at home.

If it weren't for her father convincing them to kidnap Domeric Bolton a few years ago for their first full ritual, she might have been their devil's sacrifice! Since that failed miserably and all they got out of it was a corpse, she seemed like she was always on the list. They hadn't tried another full Halloween sacrifice ritual since then, but this year, they had been colder and stayed further away from her. The priestess that always at least attempted friendship before, had been eying her all the time like a butcher watches a fattening beast. Shireen wasn't stupid and how could she even begin to ask someone for advice on that?

She smiled through her tears as she imagined going up to the only teacher she actually trusts and telling him this. "Uh, yeah, one last thing? Okay. So my mom and dad, along with my dad's girlfriend who is a priestess are planning to sacrifice me on Halloween. Yeah, they think if they use a young virgin girl that it might really work this time. Uh, just wanna know if I can like, sleep in a fire proof room at somewhere real far away for the holiday season? Like, the whole season in case they decide on a new ritual for Christmas?"

Shireen wondered if Varys would just drop his jaw, stare at her then rush to call a mental hospital? Or would he try to frantically type into his computer searches for cult to child therapists who might have patients willing to interview, while patting her wrist and telling her it was a brilliant style of research and he had no idea she wanted to be a investigative writer but he would LOVE to help her all he could? This made her giggle and the lovely fog gave birth another time. Not a pirate though, this was a clown. He didn't look like a very happy clown at all. Not the circus kind, at all. Different weapons this time, a rubber chicken and only a few blades on his belt.

 

Ramsay was walking his favorite dogs, Helen and Kyra, named for ex girlfriends. He always got bitches and kept them one way or another, like a Bolton, like his fucking older brother did, like his father and his father, blah, blah, blah. Being bisexual was a plus, he found guys would put up with his interests and violence longer than females would sometimes. The guys might fight back longer but they also are embarrassed to let another person know they are being abused. At least that was his experience so far in this small pissant town he lives in. He wonders if it's different in the city but he doubts he will ever get to find out.

Who gives a fuck, focus, focus on where Theon is. No one will fucking HELP him! He has the dogs, both good trackers and worth more than all his shitty fucking friends. Damon is chasing werewolves that he let eat Skinner, Alyn has made a new buddy with a KID, for fuck's sake and he let them move in with him! They are investigating some other fucked up clown shit and town shit. Ramsay snorted, remembering what his father always says.

"Every year the clown rumors start again. Every fall there are tales of the clown with his weapons and foul mouth. Every fall I hear of him molesting, torturing, assisting others to have reason for more violence and sometimes there is even gory death, of course, he is gone the night after Halloween. Poof. He leaves so much devastation, yet, and this is the part no one ever seems to remember...there is never a single live victim ever found. Or dead one for that matter. I may cover things up when needed, Ramsay, but I am telling you, and you, Domeric, there is and never was a single report, single victim that told us of this clown. Its a myth, a true town legend. This town does have it's fair share of monsters we can't explain during fall, yes. But the clown is the one I do know is untrue. Ignore it. I can assure you that the two of you will never see or be attacked by the legend of Shitmouth The Clown."

Even back as a child, Ramsay could tell if his father or anyone really, was telling a lie. His father was not lying about his sons never seeing this clown, that it was a legend. Some of the speech was a lie, he sensed it but he was irritated at how Domeric as always fell for it and nodded eagerly, sucking up to daddy. Ramsay never cared about the clown but he cared about his family. About his cold father he could never please and about his stupid brother, how he fucking hated him. Domeric was perfect, handsome, a hit with the popular kids and the girls all wanted to date him. He got good grades, he was into sports, all Ramsay had with his father was their love of hunting. But even then, Roose saw it as a time for criticizing, for lecturing and expecting Ramsay to be grateful for it.

When Roose spent time with Domeric it was always to encourage him, patting his back and even hugging him. The jealousy ate at Ramsay and even though Dom mostly tried to be nice to his younger half brother, it wasn't enough. Ramsay hated him worse for it. So when Domeric went missing, he was thrilled, he was sick with joy as he heard his father sob in his oldest son's dusty bedroom. Good! Good! And Ramsay felt bitter, bitter that he was forced to feel good over that, but even missing, Domeric was always there. Roose never stopped looking for his son, swallowed by a fall season. He never stopped comparing Ramsay to him and Ramsay never stopped competing with his brother's ghost.

Focus, focus, why the rambling thoughts, dammit! Because I think Theon Greyjoy is officially missing, swallowed by the fall, maybe by my ghostly brother. Another thing for the cunt to steal from me! I wish I could find his bones, I would piss on them, laugh and then throw them down at my father's feet. Maybe when he buried Domeric, he will go away for real this time. Ramsay watched as his dogs seemed tenser, a little more restless and stopped wandering the sidewalks. They pointed their noses towards the wharf and Ramsay sighed. He was so fucking tired, that's why he can't focus on a new way to find his Reek. But he has spent so much time between working and searching, the dogs have been penned up in between sniffing for Reek.

And they seem to think that is the direction they need to investigate. Probably some kids making out about to get the scare of their lives from my bitches, Ramsay thought and smirked. "Fine. Let's go to the wharf then, girls. Lead the way."

 

Shireen watched as the clown got closer and then she recalled that Bran said to not speak to the clown. To run away if they saw him. But this her wharf and how dare someone think to hurt her in her only safe place? It was the one place she has always gone to forget what her fucked up parents are doing, plotting. She cannot hear her mother always say how she is marked for the devil here. To hear her mother shriek as she hits Shireen with the belt because the girl walked through the room after a bad hallucination. That red haired cunt waits until Shireen is near to bloody before stopping her mother. Then she chides Selyne that the only reason she is hitting Shireen, is because the girl isn't a live son. That ends it and somehow her father expects Shireen to be grateful to the bitch for it.

She refuses to give up her safe place, not even to a murderous looking clown. "I have seen a zombie and a pirate, so far. You are my first clown to come from the fog like that. Shitmouth the Clown, right?" Being straight forward and blunt can usually work in Shireen's favor as well as her stone cold demeanor and confidant attitude. This is how she has survived her family, her school peers and more. Also, when your family worships fire and has marked you for death, you tend to not fear much. So Shireen expected it to work. It did not and this was a bit of a shock to her. A large ferocious smile was forming on the clown's fully made up face and the multicolored braids seemed to move in jittery snake motions as he came forward towards her.

"Shitmouth it is, Shireen! Didn't your parents ever teach you about stranger danger, little princess? Huh? Little girls shouldn't be on the wharf at night by themselves, might get hurt, you fucking stupid moronic cunt. Princess Pimple Tits? Hey, how's Rickon, how's Robin, how's BRAN? I love that fucking crippled sad son of a bitch, love him! Boy, I would LOVE to play with that boy, he can't feel those legs, anyway, right? Almost as fun as playing with Lommy...do you know him, Miss Puberty? He hangs out with Hot Pie and ARYA? Right? Hey, ho, hey ho, do you know who you know? Sadly, only got a little time for that sweet Lommy boymeat....and yeah, I was going to eat him, Shireen. SHIREEN, I PLANNED TO FUCKING EAT HIM, FUCK HIM AND EAT HIM, HE WAS GONNA BE MY HALLOWEEN TREAT, SWEET BOYMEAT!"

He laughed and laughed as he did a small dance for Shireen's eyes only. She tensed, she stopped breathing and her heart pounded, but it was her fucking bench. Her wharf and her safe place and no one had right to take it from her. So she just watched and kept her face patient but silent and bored, hiding the fear and bringing forth the will that kept her going. Shitmouth stopped roaring and dancing to bow down then flourish the chicken as he stood back up again. The rubber chicken looked a bit different, fuller somehow.

"Aren't you impressed even a little with clowns late at night, little girl? I am trying, performing my heart out for you AND YOU DO NOT SEEM TO LIKE IT? You ungrateful snot nosed little pimple on the rotting shit stained wrinkled hole of my father's ass. We are not going to be able to form a good relationship, bitch. Tell Arya that no one she knows is safe until she and Hot Pie are taken. And now for my last act for the evening, my bored audience of one! The last act for Ms. Psoriasis to have to suffer through!" Shireen saw the chicken coming but couldn't move in time. It wasn't full of rubber but something hard and her shoulder made a horrible popping sound. Before she could really feel the pain, the chicken came again, this time for her stomach.

Shireen tried to draw enough breath to scream but the chicken caught her knee and there was blinding pain. Easily now, the clown knocked her off the bench and he landed hard on her stomach. He straddled her and then his penis was out and Shireen scrabbled hard at the wood and sand, splinters digging deep. Ripping her shirt up, repulsive gloved fingers touched her breasts and one of his hands stroked his hard flesh over her. Air came slow and her attempts at screaming were pitiful at best. Then they both heard the sounds of barking and howling coming from nearby. From the fog. Shireen finally managed a scream which made the howls and barking come faster. She dared to start laughing even as she sobbed while the clown jumped up and fixed himself fast. Then he gave the girl a hard kick to the ribs.

"Tell that bitch Arya, no one is safe. She might as well give herself up to Tickler and Polliver. Little cunts like you shouldn't be out so late! But teaching a bitch a lesson isn't worth werewolves." He ran off and Shireen was in too much pain to tell the man that those were clearly dogs and not wolves. She tried to sit up but the pain was too much and something was very wrong with her shoulder. The dogs were closer and then they were breaking through fog and running to her.

Shireen cried and giggled as wet noses began to nuzzle at her and whimper-barks were offered behind them as if to call someone. A moment later, Ramsay Bolton was looking down at her. "Holy fuck. What the hell happened to you?" "Shitmouth the clown. Would you mind helping me get up? I'd like to sit on my bench, if you please." Ramsay stared at the girl as she then burst into tears.


	32. Monsters At Work

Unella crept low and there it was, huge and slobbering, snout scarred but working just fine. She heard all the werewolves had all been wounded but they healed fast, then again, most of these cursed creatures do. She felt no hatred, anger or disgust, Unella did not kill these creatures because she felt any malice towards them. They are victims, she sees that and it's not their fault that they became monsters. However, Unella felt no true guilt when she kills them, they cannot exist without slaughtering humans, so they must die. Sometimes the monsters beg to be cured, that used to make her feel bad. Once after a grueling second hunting season, when Unella was still new to being a wife, as well as a monster slayer and Gregor's parents were still alive and hunting, she asked that question. "Why can we not cure any of them? I...I looked in the library and I found stuff that-"

With a smirk, as Unella lay watching the wolf head towards a trap, she remembered that day, she dared to question. It was the one time her husband truly protected his wife within their marriage. The hunting was different, they would have each other's backs, but at home it was every predator for itself. Unella had looked at the family she was stuck in, all of them and her, bloody and injured. It had been a rough one and it had a been a mix of lupine and vampire, a terrible combination. Each hated the other and they slaughtered each other as easily as the humans. Luckily, their own battles made it easier for the Cleganes to catch them, kill them. But the were's and the vampires reverted to human as they were killed. And they begged, they pleaded, they sobbed in guilt of what they had done.

So Unella waited until they were all in the garage taking off their gear before looking at the brutal family and asking about cures. About offering more than death. Gregor's parents turned with near to bestial rage on their faces at her daring and stormed towards her. Then Gregor's back was all she could see and she cowered, seeing Sandor's fear at her blunder. That scared her enough to remain silent and just listen to Gregor fight with his parents. "She will be trained and instructed by me. You said so yourself that it was my wife, mine to care for and mine to introduce into our hunts. I don't give a fuck if you thought she was insolent. It was a fucking question, get over it. No, you aren't teaching her any fucking lessons, you fucking maniacs, she doesn't need what you did to me. It would kill her and if anyone ever gets to kill her, its ME! FUCK OFF OR I SWEAR-"

Sandor had grabbed Unella and they ran and hid in a shed on the property. For hours they heard sounds worse than even on a hunt, then just dead silence. When they inched back to the house, it was utterly destroyed. Blood slicked the walls and floors from garage to house, from kitchen to living room. Gregor was standing there, he had wounds that made them wince a bit, looking at the pieces of his parents. "I am the new leader, the alpha. Hear me?" Both of them had meekly nodded, staring at what was left of the formidable parents. It took all three of them days to fully clean the mess. Gregor had carefully fed his mother and father to their small pen of pigs and their few dogs. No one questioned their disappearance much, the ones in the know were told they died fighting the creatures. Good enough and they continued working every fall.

But a few days after Gregor killed his parents he approached Unella. "There are cures for monsters and there are those that do cure them. We do not have that talent, we do not have a person like that around here to join us. We don't have the time to capture each creature and try to cure it. Think of how hard it is when we capture one and torture it for information on their kindred? We would probably fail at it anyway. We our chosen for our purpose and it is to deal death to these creatures. You were chosen to do this, to deal death. You can offer it with mercy, I don't care, it doesn't matter the how, what matters is that you always remember that you deal death. The day you forget that, you will die, they will take you down. You are a monster slayer, not a monster saver. If you ever switch sides, they will see it as weakness and destroy you. And if they don't manage to kill you for such a fatal weakness, I will."

Unella never forgot her husband's wise words and she smiles grimly as the large werewolf fell into the spike pit. She heard the whines and howls of pain as she crept over and sat on the edge of the pit. Waiting for the wolf to change enough to human to speak to her. This one will hopefully give the location of their den or where the others are intending to hunt for humans. Slowly the furry beast was compelled by the pain, by the loss of life inch by inch to turn back into the human form and Unella watched as Yara Greyjoy's features appeared fully.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you. I know it was not your fault, you had no choice in killing, I know that. Someone else passed a terrible curse onto you. If I could spare your life, I would. But monster slayers are not witches with healing powers or gypsies to remove curses. I can only offer you the smallest of mercies. A person to talk to as you die, a quick death. My hunting partners want to torture and question any caught wolves. You are truly caught and this impaling death will be slow. Tell me what they wish to know and I can make it very fast for you."

Yara stared up at Unella, this mud caked figure with too wide white eyes and she shuddered. "Theon! Theon, he needs me! They will kill him without me..."

 

Sam and Alyn were red eyed, hair all over the place and still in their pajamas. Damon served strong coffee as Arya and Hot Pie appealed to the men for help. The alarm on Sam's face about the clown was not helping them feel any better. "Listen, the clown is dangerous in a different kind of way than these other guys." Hot Pie snorted, "Do you understand that these guys will kill us too? It's not a bluff or a threat. They have tortured and murdered before. They never cared what they said in front of me. And a few times Polliver thought it would be funny to make me come watch their sick fucking games. Besides, Shitmouth is with them in it all so..."

Shaking his head with wide eyes alarm, Sam gave a bitter short laugh. "No. See, that is what everyone always thinks each time. The clown isn't in it with or for this gang, not really. He sort of feels out where the violence, the potential for the worst shit will come from and he instigates...he makes sure to introduce himself to the right person, just one of them. And then lets them know they can call on him for some good old fashioned fall time fuckery. And they always do. He enjoys creating panic, drama and watching everything around him burn. If he can get folks to be hurt,molested or killed by himself or others, he will do it. He gets more joy out of making others do the worst of it. He...he can be terrible on his own though, if he feels things aren't moving quick or bloody enough, he'll just do it himself. That is even worse."

Damon saw bathroom tiles smeared with blood, window bars of the youth detention center and heard screams, familiar horrid ones from his dreams and he snapped loudly, "Enough! No more about this FUCKING CLOWN, HEAR ME? I am having fucking nightmares about the fucking thing because of all this stress and shit! I don't need to hear anymore about him. Or I fucking leave right now! Now either we talk about trying to save your little buddy or I just call the damned police, report a kidnapping anonymously and go to bed." Alyn rolled his eyes and called his bluff. "Yeah, you go ahead and give Roose another scandal as if he won't know it's you."

Sam looked closely at Damon but declined to mention the clown again for fear that the large man would run off. "The boy needs help one way or another. We can't let them torture or kill some kid, guys. We have to go for him ourselves or call Roose, no matter what."  Arya shook her head. "Raff works as an officer and Roose will cover it all up for him. Then they will come after us so hard that it will be a freaking bloodbath."

"Alright, then let's start a fucking war with drug dealers and a crooked cop, why the fuck not? It's fall, right? Fuck. Fine. Alyn, still have some dynamite laying around here? Hot Pie has to come with us, he knows where we are going and what's there. Alyn and Sam have to come since they are my other shooters. Girlie, be as pissed as you'd like but since we haven't found a bullet proof one-piece for the toddler, you are on baby guard duty." Arya stared at Damon and burst out, "You expect me to stay here and babysit, you misogynistic piece of crap?"

Damon's eyes narrowed and he growled out, "No, I said baby guard duty, not baby sitting. The kid is asleep and safe. You are going to make sure that if the clown or anyone from Polliver's group comes close, you kill them. Someone has to stay and this time around, you are it. Don't worry, once we attack and steal their victim, I am positive you are going to get that grand chance to fight them all." Arya gritted her teeth and got on near tip top to stare as close to in the large face as she could. Even then, she had to stare upwards but her determination and anger towered over him. "He cannot run. I can and I can shoot. Archery and shooting awards aren't only won by my older brothers. They taught me to hunt and I know how to fight. Sam can only shoot and drive. But with this group, we need to be fast, really fast."

Sam didn't want to admit the truth, that he didn't dare leave his son for a moment. Not with the clown, the wolves and this killer gang running about. And yet, he couldn't desert that poor boy to that awful gang. Also, he didn't like how nervous and haunted Damon looked. He wished he could ask about those nightmares, Sam wished he could sit down and talk honestly with Damon. But they still don't know each other that well for such a personal traumatic thing and Sam also has a feeling that Damon doesn't truly recall things yet. That worries him greatly and he thinks of who else might have had experiences from the same time he did. Do any of them remember out of the nightmares besides Sam? He listened to the group argue over who will go and Hot Pie muttered, "Someone better make a decision soon before there isn't any Lommy left to save."    

 

Euron walked slowly, enjoying the wonderful smell of the woods. Of the night in general, of the distant musk of werewolves, the chill-lava feeling in Euron's chest that let him know the other hunters were out as well. The woods were deadly tonight, monsters in every direction but the most the most evil of them all, a slayer was currently putting an arrow through his niece's heart.  "Fucking monster slayers. Pretentious of you to judge others." Unella knew that voice and shivered before turning to look up at him. Then gave the only thought in her head as a response. "I never knew which I hated worse. Pirates or vampires. Figures that you managed to be both at the same time."

Chuckling, Euron came forward in a flash but Unella was already on her feet, her cross bow whipping across his face. "Ouch. You never were a charming person, even as a child, were you? My dear, I am not trying to attack you, merely speak with you. That was my niece you just killed. I am disappointed to find she was turned lupine, by right of family, I should have been the one to kill her. Oh well. Now, Balon hid the boy from me for such a long time, it's only fair that I get to see him. Theon has no father or sister anymore, only his loving uncle. And I need an heir. I know Yara was stashing him somewhere, did she happen to tell you where? I swear I am only here for my nephew, give me his location and I am taking him away with me. Without killing a single human, how is that for an easy victory, dear?"

"Yara might have made a mistake in kidnapping her brother, but she was trying to protect him. From herself, from their father, from Theon's abusive boyfriend and from you. She knew what you were, her father had told her. She didn't know you were returning until she was turned, then she said she could smell you coming. I won't help you find him, Euron. The girl asked me to help her brother and I'll do that anyway I can as long as he is still a human. Including keeping you from him." Euron sighed and waved his hands as if to say, I tried to make her see reason. "Well, I'm going to torture you until you tell me, but we can play it that way, Unella, I don't mind." A sound and Sandor was holding a high powered rifle to Euron's head. "Silver bullets are on the menu tonight, Euron, would you like one?"

Gregor emerged from behind Unella and he brushed past her to face the vampire. "I mind other males playing games with my wife, Euron. Why the fuck are you back in town? I thought our truce was clear on the details. We allowed you to leave on the promise you wouldn't touch our town with your bloodsucking boots again." Euron shrugged and seemed very unconcerned at the weapons pointed at him. Euron did widen his eyes as he caught Gregor in a beam of moonlight, his nostrils flared as he sniffed out the new changes. "Well, here is a fun turn of events! What a true hypocrite you are, Gregor! A monster slaying other monsters for truth now! The zombies are now in charge of murdering creatures in your town? How fun, truly!"

Euron watched in true amusement and bafflement as Gregor roared that he wasn't dead. Sandor and Unella at the same time intoned in a voice that clearly indicated disbelief that Gregor just suffered a medical trauma. "If you wish to keep your delusions it really isn't my concern. Here is what is my concern, my bloodline. My only family member left, Theon. I want my nephew, I need him, if I had only realized that sooner, I would have stolen him away when I first left and he was still a little brat."  He walked about as he spoke, gesturing grandly with his hands.

"I was content with our truce as I traveled other places, had new wives, made families....but the fucking hunters get more brutal the further I went. Others of my creation went insane or defied me and had to be put down. In the end I saw the truth. Only my own blood would do for heirs. Theon will become my son, he will help me gain more followers, we shall go feed and dominate the sheep together, sailing to find new locations. Theon is all I am here to get then I shall leave."

Unella was shocked to hear Gregor snort and say, "Wife, if the girl gave you information on Theon, give it to him. Take your nephew and leave town, Euron."  

 

Lommy felt a hand gently slapping at his sore, swollen face. He coughed and unwillingly swam back to reality, he just wanted to sleep. It was the only escape he had left and the fuckers won't even let him have this one small mercy for more than a minute! The hand wasn't gentle any longer, it was forcing his mouth open and cold water began to trickle into his mouth. He wanted to spit it out in defiance, hopefully into Polliver's grinning fucking face. Instead his traitorous body swallowed it greedily, let it overflow and rinse the terrible tastes from his mouth.

"Hey there, Lommy!  How are you doing, buddy? You don't like the party? Come on rally just a little for me, huh? You are worrying Raff. He doesn't want you to die while he is around. I don't want you to die until we have your friends here to watch it. So open your pretty eyes for me or I'm going to sew your eyelids open so you HAVE to keep them open. There you are, hey there! See, Raff, he's fine. Doing good, a tough guy with a loud fucking mouth, right, Lommy? Have any jokes for us, anything you'd like to share? No? Not in the mood for chatting yet? That's fine."

He forced his eyes to focus and looked up at Polliver, Tickler and Raff all staring down at him. Lommy felt weak, tiny and helpless, not a very good feeling. The pain hit him all at once from so many injured parts that Lommy felt like he was hit by a speeding train. He arched and screamed, screamed more and the three assholes LAUGHED at him. Lommy forced himself to stop sobbing, stop screaming and finally managed to speak. His voice was ragged, breathy and it was torn from him with agony, each word was a pain filled screech. "I should have taken my chances with the clown. At least I got a bit of fun from that."

Polliver gave a great guffaw and Raff smirked along with Tickler. "Now...that's just plain hurtful, Lommy. After all the effort we have gone through to show you a good time, to keep things interesting for you! Besides, you really don't want to be with the clown, do you? I mean, Raff here could still sell you to Shitmouth for a few bucks, I'd bet. But even though there would be joy in knowing you wouldn't ever leave his van or fucking ice cream truck or whatever clowns use for a murder vehicle, it wouldn't feel right. I want you with your friends, I want your fucking buddies to watch you die and then they will each  have their very long, very slow turn to die." 

Lommy was pretty sure he wasn't surviving long enough for these guys to catch his buddies. That was a good thing, he didn't want to see his friends hurt like he was, he didn't want to be the reason they are caught. So far, Raff played a little game that Lommy called fun with tasers. At least the chuckling goons thought it was fun to watch Lommy jerk, spasm, piss and shit himself while Raff sent him into seizures over and over. Then after a small break with a dubious mercy of being force fed dog food from a can plus some water he was made to lap from a dirty dog dish. There were roaches floating in it and they made him eat them. Tickler found fireworks and Lommy begged for mercy while the giggling sadist lit the damned things between the white toes as Polliver held his cast still while it happened.

Raff expertly cauterized the three stumps where Lommy had toes before with a small flamethrower. Polliver encouraged Tickler further and Lommy lost two fingers on his left hand to more fireworks. Another painful cauterizing from Raff who then warned them that Lommy must be given a rest period to be treated for shock. "We might lose him otherwise or at the least, he will sort of sink away and he won't feel anything. He won't be fun anymore." So Lommy had been wrapped in a blanket and allowed to rest. Raff had even given him a pill to crush in his mouth and then he had floated away.

"Lommy, your sleepy time rest is over now. You are looking a little more perked up already. Tell you what, I'm even going to give you something for the pain...because I want you to feel more. And you can't do that if you are stuck in your past pains, right? I am going to let you have a little of my actual product, boy. You should be honored and grateful, I never give anything away for free. Ready to fly high? Good news for you Lommy, you won't live long enough to have to worry about addiction problems!"


	33. Brutal Beasts

Shireen's eyes looked desperately into the fog, her breathing was rapid and she heard Ramsay's sadistically amused voice. "This. is. really. going. to. hurt." A dreadful crack and she screamed into the lonely night, causing the two dogs to give a dreadful howl as if to empathize. As she blinked tears of pain away, she smiled at the two fierce looking dogs with eyes of concerned single aunts everywhere. Ramsay wrapped his belt around her to keep her arm close to her side. "This will need to be bound up correctly soon. It will hurt you for a bit but you'll be fine. The bruises will fade with time. Nothing broken, nothing bloody, pretty good for a run in with a legendary killer clown. My dogs like you. Interesting."

Taking the water bottle the man handed her, Shireen decided she liked this strange sadist. She knew that was what he was, someone who not only loved seeing others hurt, but had to see it, had to cause it. She found him and his dogs interesting, a much better thing to think about than that damned clown. Ramsay did not offer to call the police, an ambulance or her parents. It was as if he simply understood that she couldn't do any of those things. Instead, the man simply assessed her injuries and fixed her dislocated shoulder.

"Long dresses with long sleeves will hide scrapes and bruises, plus you can say you fell and hurt your shoulder. And here is a cool thing for someone your age! You can say you were attacked and survived the legendary clown! Your little buddies will be all impressed over that shit, won't they? You don't live far from my father's house. The girls and I will walk you home. I feel like stretching my legs tonight and so do the girls. Was it really Shitmouth the clown? What did he look like? I never got to meet him and I've wanted to all my life. Heard of him from others, but my father swears he doesn't exist and I am so thrilled that he is real."

"He wears like way too big and colorful hobo kind of clothes. Has cleavers, knives and a really hard fucking rubber chicken. He also likes to jerk off, rape and eat sweet boy meat according to his boasts. Oh and he was trying to get some girl meat tonight too, I think. At least with my messed up cult issues, I don't have to worry about them raping and eating me." Ramsay laughed at Shireen's deadened words and gave her a grin. "I like you. What a tough little shit you are. I mean, nearly molested by a clown that admits to raping and eating little boys. Taking a beating from a fucking rubber chicken is not only painful, but humiliating. And here you are, standing, walking and playing around with my dogs while making lovely little snipes. I love it, if you were only older and I were only into women that could equal me."

Snorting, Shireen shoved the dogs out from under her thighs, almost falling into Ramsay. She rubbed the wet spot on her thigh and grimaced, expecting to see dog slobber. Instead she saw blood and gasped. "Oh, I guess I should have let you give me a full examination after all." Ramsay knelt down and gave a small whistle. "Looks like the clown used one of his blades after all. Nice long cut and it needs about four stitches. I can't do that out here, Shireen. It's the hospital, your parents or my place. I have a ton of shit I have stolen from the hospital, I can properly do up your shoulder there and your stitches." Taking a deep breath, Shireen said grimly, "I'm going to have to trust that you won't make me have to cut off my own foot then spoon tunnel my way out of your basement dungeon. Don't laugh at me, I have heard things!"

Ramsay was cheerful as he headed the dogs towards their home. In an effort to reassure Shireen, Ramsay blurted out, "Don't worry, between being only a little girl and that leprosy eating half your face, you really aren't my type."

 

Lommy whimpered, shuddering, unable to stop. Naked in the chill fall air was bad, spread eagle between two metal posts, wrists and ankles held by barbed wire was worse. If he struggled at all the pain and cutting grew unbearable. However it couldn't be helped much because the most awful thing was the trash can full of water and braided ropes. They all took turns whipping him with the soaked ropes and from shoulders to lower calves, front and back, Lommy was struck. His body was painted in lines of brilliant red, deep blue and exquisite purple rainbows.

He has screamed himself raw, begging was useless and he had given up on that some time ago. Each strike made him jerk against the barbed wire, each lash made the broken bones in his leg grind small portions into powder. Every single hit made Lommy lose his breath in sheer agonizing bolts he couldn't scream over anymore. Tickler got a really wonderful crack with a rope knot right across Lommy's testicles and the boy got a break while he vomited and fainted. Then Polliver began to spray Lommy with the hose until he fully became aware again. Lommy screamed full into their faces as they leered at him, welcoming him back to his nightmare.

Polliver forced another snort of powder into his nearly shattered nose then giggling, shoved something small into Lommy's mouth that dissolved with a sickeningly sweet taste. "Here you go, Lommy. You are taking one for the team, I must say, Hot Pie and Arya would be proud of you. One hell of a sport, buddy. That you are. But we aren't done yet, sweetcakes and you keep getting bored and zoning out on me. I don't like that. But I respect you now, boy, I really do with the way you've held up. So a little energy, a little sweet relief and you just tell me when that kicks in for you, okay? I declare a break time for our little warrior."

Tickler used wire cutters to release Lommy and let the boy fall to the ground with a hoarse bark. "There ya go, boy. You just lay there and sob like a little bitch. Let us know when things are all warm and better, pussy. I want to really get a chance to play with you before you die, Lommy. I want to skin your junk for you and the whole time, you will tell me jokes. Because if you don't, I'll skin all of you." Lommy shuddered and made himself look up with a small look of fake concern. "Oh no...are you into boys now, Tickler? Poor Arya will be so disappointed." It was worth the boot to the ribs. Lommy heard Polliver arguing with Raff about putting fireworks in his ass or mouth. This was only a concern for a moment then it floated away. Fuck.

 

Rickon and Robin were asleep, the television still on a zombie marathon, both of them tangled in blankets and sleeping bags. Robin had a huge room with an area for reading, another for gaming, like a small living room. And his own bathroom attached to the room. Rickon was jealous, so was Shireen. However, both Robin's friends found it strange that every night at some point, Lysa came by and locked the door from the outside. However, Robin always went to sleep after his mother locked him in and so they let it go.

Strange sounds, snuffling, claws scrabbling on unfamiliar terrain of wood and rugs. Rickon started to waken a bit and nudged at Robin, muttering, "Wolf. I can hear it near your room." Robin turned over and muttered, "Probably just the dog. Go to sleep." "Oh, okay." Rickon was already falling back to sleep when he recalled that Robin didn't own a dog. Slumber took him over and he only tossed and turned when the howls began and then faded away. The moon stared down at the boys without any caring as they uneasily ran through dreams.

 

Shireen was polite enough not to ask about the third cage at Ramsay's house or about the other strange devices she saw. It was very clear what Ramsay was into and why he might need a small surgery in his home. The whole time that the man worked on her, he complained about his missing boyfriend. How no one would help him, how he suspects that Yara might have taken him. How he fears that the damned clown might have Theon or the werewolves for that matter. Shireen listened and nodded. "I get how you feel. A big problem that you can't solve by yourself and even your friends don't understand enough to help you."

Ramsay looked at her and gave a crooked smirk. "Really? How could you understand something like how I feel? You aren't even old enough to have a boyfriend, never mind have one as closely as mine is." Shireen looked steadily at Ramsay, knowing that this is probably the one person in town she can tell her secrets to. He doesn't care about anything but himself and his missing Theon, Ramsay won't care enough to tell anyone what she says.

"I know how it feels to hold a huge problem and need help. And not able to get any help from even those closest to you. My parents are going to kill me, literally. They are sacrificing me to a damned demon this fall and there is nothing I can do to stop it. They all know what is going on at my house, the fucking school, the social worker, none of it matters. My uncle Robert and your own father made sure to cover it all up. So I get to die and no one can help me. My friends, they can't help me, how can they fight a priestess and my parents? They plan to burn me to death for their ritual. It didn't work last time they tried, it won't work this time but they just want to give it one more try."

Well, that caught Ramsay's attention and he stared deep into the little girl's eyes. "You aren't lying. It's either real or you at least truly believe it's real. Tell me again. I know your family is into cult and fire god shit. I know my father has smoothed things over for your father because of Robert. But I think if they thought your life itself was in danger, that would change fast." Shireen shook her head. "First thing your father would want from me is proof. What can I offer? He would have to come inside and see what they've done. But no one is allowed inside our house and your father would have no real reason to get a warrant to come in.  Who is going to believe me, Ramsay? See? So I'm fucked and I know it. All I can do is wait for the day when they finally decide to burn me alive. Fun Halloween, eh?"

"The answer is kind of so simple, kid, that I am embarrassed for you to say it. You need to obviously kill them before they kill you. I mean, duh, Shireen. I heard you were the smart Baratheon...well, then again, considering...you still are." Ramsay chuckled and gave Shireen a friendly pat on the head as he cleaned up his mess. "All set. Want me to drive you home? I'm too tired to walk all that way again." Shireen nodded, bit her lip, twisted her hands, then got a twinkle in her eye. If Rickon or Robin had been there for the twinkle, they would have groaned and told Ramsay he might as well surrender now. "Why don't we make a deal? I have information you could really use and if you help me murder my parents and this whore, I'll be the one to help you find Theon! And give you something your father will really want too!"

 

Lommy was high as fuck, oh yes indeedy! And that is why he grinned foolishly even as he drooled in terror when the men came back over. They had more fireworks and Lommy laughed along with them for a second. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you! I hope Arya fucking castrates you, Tickler! Polliver, I pray that Hot Pie carves into  you like a turkey with your own fucking blade. Raff, you just fucking suck so bad...I hope you get caught for my death, I hope you get put in prison and fucking gang raped, you fucking-"  No matter what he said, it changed nothing, they still were forcing him, bending his naked frame over an old rotting chair so his ass was up. His words only made them shove the firecrackers in harder.

Pain ripped through any crystal love that Polliver has shoved into Lommy's head and the world went away. He woke up to those fuckers laughing, howling in true hysteria as Lommy started to scream and arch. He smelt fire, burning flesh, blood and shit. It was splattered all over the backs of his legs. Of course, what he really said was just a wordless shriek of denial of the terrible pain of it all. "You fuckers blew my ass off didn't you?" Raff managed to stop laughing and pointed to the writhing meat known as Lommy. "Half of each of your cheeks are a bit...gone, man. And you might need a colostomy bag. Damn. You fucking stink now, boy. We need to hose this fucker down, guys. Then I'll patch him, best I can." Polliver hosed him off, Tickler dragged Lommy out of his own filth so they could fully rinse him off.

Tickler tossed the boy onto a stained mattress and then frowned. The boy had no reaction at all, his body limp, more shit and blood oozing from his ruined behind. "Fuck. Hey, guys? Uh..." Swearing, Raff ran over and began to check Lommy. Polliver groaned and looked so disappointed, as if he were a child denied a rightful treat. "He isn't looking too good, Polliver. I told you the firecracker in his ass would be a really bad idea if you wanted to keep him alive. He doesn't have long left I don't think. I am taking off before he fully dies, can't be around for that shit." Lommy began to jitter, his eyes rolling in his head and his mouth foamed a bit. Then he arched almost off the whole damned mattress and made a horrid guttural sound. 

Polliver and Tickler wandered away to discuss how they could use Lommy's body afterwards to lure the other two. Or at least torment them with it. Raff moved back but watched Lommy for another minute. Torturing this little punk was amazing fun and watching him die would be just as delightful. But Raff knew he had to leave, besides, it always brought the other two down a bit when their victims died too soon. It was boring to watch and so Raff stood up and stretched, yawning. Then there was a strange cracking sound and a howling, gibbering roar of rage. Raff screamed but the werewolf formerly known as Lommy was injured but oh so pissed and it's teeth were firmly lodged in Raff's leg. It dragged him off even as he tried to pull out his gun and shoot it. Tickler and Polliver shot at it but Lommy was gone and so was their friend. "Fuck! Fuck! I TOLD YOU HE WAS INFECTED! FUCK!"

 


	34. Bye Bye Rules

Unella felt as if she were swallowing molten lava. Her brief hesitation gave Sandor heart palpations, it brought Euron more amusement and Gregor's eyes burned through her brain straight to her soul. She remembered the horrors of training, of learning, of conditioning both at home as a wife and out here as a hunter. Always guided by Gregor's voice, disciplined by his painful hands, dominated and controlled by Gregor's will. During a hunt, Unella has never defied an order, it is unthinkable, and in front of a monster? To look divided was weakness, to disobey her own leader was nearly sacrilegious in some way. 

A moment only, but long enough to be noted then Unella unwillingly nodded. Unella gave Euron the directions that Yara gave her. She told him that the other werewolves had only left Theon alone due to Yara being their alpha. She is gone now and Theon has no further protection if those wolves go back to the den later. Her concern for the boy was apparent and Euron acknowledged it by bowing low. "I thank you, dear slayer. I can tell that you would have done all you could have to save my human nephew from a tragedy. I promise you, I am not going to harm him, rather, I intend to save Theon, from himself and all others. Make him strong, make him mine and then he and I-"

Gregor glared at Euron as he snapped out, "You have your information. Keep your end of the bargain. Get your nephew and get the fuck out of the town. I don't give a fuck where you go or what you'll do as long as it isn't around here. I have wolves to hunt." Euron sighed painfully and he sounded put out. "Always so rude, Gregor. Not that death makes all creatures into charming things like myself, but most zombies and other undead I have met in their many forms are not nearly as damned rude as you. What do you make of that?" "I AM NOT DEAD!" But Euron was already gone, in the blink of an eye and they could barely hear him in the distance. Unella had started to look in the direction Euron had gone but then Gregor was right there. His hand came in a blur, an explosion of flesh hitting flesh and the open handed slap knocked her to the dirt.

Unella knew better than to rise, than to look up or do anything that can be construed even slightly as defiance or challenge. Her eyes and face stayed low, she remained where she fell, silent. Blood dripped from her cut lip and half her face felt hot as if held to brightly lit coals. Gregor's boots came into her view and Unella tried hard not to flinch. Gregor's voice was searing in it's anger. "Never hesitate again. We will discuss this later. Now get back to the hunt. Both of you." Sandor waited until Gregor walked away before helping Unella to her feet. Unella whispered, "Our duty is to protect the humans from the monsters. We just gave a human to a monster and earlier watched our lead slayer eat a human. This is all...sacrilegious. It's wrong, goes against all we are taught to hold dear, to protect. There has to be a line we draw."

Sandor gave her a quick shake and whispered harshly, "I know, I know but you really pick the wrong fucking times, okay? In front of a master vampire is never the time and a hunt is a pretty shitty time to bring it up too!" With a sigh, Unella ripped herself out of Sandor's grip and muttered, "What should I do, wait until it's Gregor's next undead birthday, smack the cake out of his hand and give a scathing lecture on our morals and ethics as slayers?" Giving a grin, Sandor walked away, tossing over his shoulder, "I would pay the kind of money that folds to see that."

 

Raff was dragged for some time, grabbing onto roots only got the flesh torn off his hands. Screaming, his face, his entire front was taking one hell of a beating as he was ripped across rocks, roots, broken glass. His clothing was shredded and he was leaving a trail of blood that he could watch coming from his body.  After a good portion of forever, the werewolf stopped, released Raff's leg and was gone. Giving a jagged sob of relief, Raff tried to turn over, sit up and check his leg. Seeing bone glistening, he cursed. Didn't matter, never mind that it was the same leg that Lommy got injured and broken. Maybe that was the whole revenge for Lommy and the werewolf was gone.

He didn't hear Polliver or Tickler screaming in agony but he could hear them yelling for him in the distance. They would bring guns and Raff would be protected. He lost his gun during the dragging. It took a moment to get to standing, leaning heavily on a tree, trying not to holler in pain. The leg would make it difficult, but he can walk if he really tries. Never mind the numerous slick blooded injuries upon his chest, stomach and thighs, ignore it and move. Raff finally managed to take a step and then a blur out of nowhere. He screamed as the teeth came gnashing into his stomach, yanking things, burying his snout inside, INSIDE! Raff beat at the huge furry head and then it was gone.

Falling to the earth, there was no walking now and when Raff tried to call out to his friends, he lurched and belched up thick blood onto himself. No, no, Raff had plans, he was always careful to never mix his fun with his goals. He won't be taken down by a little punk turned werewolf, fuck that. Starting to crawl forward, a loop of intestine got caught under his knee. Fireworks went off in Raff's stomach and he screamed soundlessly before graying out. Polliver and Tickler were not calling anymore, not screaming or shooting.

With a blast of terror, he hear a car starting, then squealing tires as it fled. They left him, they deserted him! Sobbing now, Raff tried again to move forward, then he heard growling, almost a giggling yip circling around him. Grabbing his cell phone, ready to hit himself, how could he not thought of this? He hit the emergency number for Roose then dropped the phone. 

It was too late to be saved, true. Lommy or whatever the fuck he was now was in his face, snarling. Those huge bloody teeth snapped into Raff's face without actually touching him to make him flinch. Raff cowered as far back as he could but the toothy snout kept darting forward to make him scream and cringe away. "P...pl..please..." The eyes of the wolf glowed then and it seemed very satisfied with the plea torn from Raff's mouth, it sounded like the plea of a little boy. Like a pussy and Raff saw the real Lommy hiding in there, it was pleased. But the wolf was hungry and Lommy remembered that when he was begging like that, Raff only hurt him more. The handsome man screamed as the teeth began to crunch into his face.

 

Roose sat in his office, staring at his phone that was emitting the most horrible screams and terrible chewing ripping gristly sounds. He could hear the snorting, the snarling, growling, it was clearly not a human. But the screams that turned into moans, whimpers and then a rattling sound and nothing, that was Raff, Roose's favorite officer. He called for a track on Raff's location, got his own rifle and then called Damon.

"Hello?" "Damon, drop whatever you are doing immediately. We have an emergency. There is a beast, a wolf, attacking my officer near the old junkyard that drug dealer owns. You and Alyn are the closest hunters and the best we can reach right now. Meet me at the junkyard now. Bring your best rifles. I want this thing dead."

Damon hung up, pulled the car over halfway towards the junkyard already and sighed. "Well, that changes shit anyways. Could have saved ourselves that argument earlier." He grins at Hot Pie and Arya. "That was Roose, a wolf was reported attacking Raff at the junkyard. He wants me and Alyn to meet him up there to hunt the thing down. Bet Polliver and Tickler panicked, stashed Lommy there somewhere and ran off to hide. While we are up there we will search everywhere for Lommy, I promise. And think, if one of the werewolves got Raff....he's dead now. One down, right?"

He dropped the kids back off to Sam and flew to meet Roose at the junkyard.

 

Raff had been right, Polliver and Tickler, panicked and fled, they were not ready to take on werewolves again. Roose, Alyn and Damon looked around the immediate area of the junkyard with a bit of disgust. It was more than obvious that someone was tortured here, they left behind all their evidence in their panic. Alyn stared longest at the pieces of toes and fingers, teeth, hair and a nipple. The puddles of blood mixed with feces were already drawing flies and the blood slicked barbed wire told a terrible story. As did the empty boxes of firecrackers laying in one of the puddles.

Damon told Roose the truth then, he had to. "Polliver's gang is in a feud with Arya's little punk group. They stole Lommy, they tortured him and planned to murder him. They probably left him here, dead or alive, in their panic. We were on our way here anyway, to rescue him." Nodding, Roose began to walk away from the incriminating mess. "After we find my officer and kill this wolf, we will look for the boy and then you'll let me deal with it from there. I am going to take Polliver and Tickler down, but first, this wolf must die and I want to find Raff." Alyn wanted to object, considering how injured the boy might be if he was alive at all but Damon shot him a warning glance.

They found Raff not too long after, what was left of him. His long lovely hair, his elegant lovely fingers on a curled hand were the only clear things the men could make out. Alyn and Damon both got sick into the rotting foliage but Roose just stared grimly down at the destroyed human. Then he forced the other two back into standing up like men and helping him search. They looked for some time, but the creature was gone. "It's gone, Sir. I'm sorry, but it's probably fleeing to the woods to join the others." Roose nodded at Damon tiredly. "Yes, I know. The good news is, as you know the woods are blocked off for expert hunters and trappers to hunt these things. I am sure this wolf will run into them."

Alyn's eyes glowed as he knows about these hunters, these unspoken of special monster slayers of the town. He suspects it's the Cleganes, his research all points to it but he bites his lip. Roose looks amused at Damon and Alyn as they headed back towards the junkyard, already calling for the boy. Deciding it's already gone way past usual this fall, Roose does a strange thing. Maybe it's because his favorite protégé just died a horrid death, maybe it's because Roose has lost all contact with his crazed son and his other one is rotting somewhere. Or has become something else that hides in the fall. Who knows, maybe because things came too hard and early this year and feels overwhelming. 

He allows Damon and Alyn hear the recording of Raff's last ghastly call to Roose. And he sees them both become disturbed as they hear Raff's final gurgling words, just before the death rattles start. "Lo...Lommy...p...plea..se...sorry...stop....Lom...begging yoooooooo-" It broke off into a yowl of pain then the ripping sounds and rattling...silence. Roose cleared his throat and looked at both of the horrified men.

"Let's call it what it is in the privacy of this horrid place. Werewolves. This boy was tormented, we know he was bitten by a werewolf at the water tower. The extreme pain, his body starting to die and the infection kicked in full force. Lommy is now a werewolf. And he will go where the other beasts go, to the woods. And then our slayers will take his head and heart. It's always something different every fall...our little town has secrets like any other. And it's alright for you to know them, as long as you keep them secret. It will end soon enough. It always does and you both know it."

Roose then gave a very stern look to both of them. "Of course, officially, I have a feeling that Polliver and Tickler might have murdered my officer who caught them torturing that poor boy to death. You will say nothing and allow me to do my job. Keeping this town safe at all costs."

 

Qyburn shut the window against the night chill and it muffled the sounds of wolves howling in the distance. He smiled and looked briefly at the bloated orange moon. A movement behind him and he turned to look at the figure on the hospital bed. The boy was restless, had been for hours and finally his eyes opened. Qyburn gave a smile to the grayish, black eyed boy. He helped him to sit up and then he spoke gently. "It was a success, my dear brave boy. You took a final step into scientific conviction and here you are. Look, I shall prove it to you. Try and move your legs."

A sound of flesh dragging across linen and the knees came up, then crashed down. "You will need some physical therapy and I have some medication to help you. It will take at least a few days. But not weeks or months, days, my fine young man. Can you imagine, to heal so fast? To be nearly indestructible?" Bran gave a small smile that held little emotion to it. The black eyes stared with a flat satisfaction at the moving legs. "I...I feel different. Very different. Will my emotions come back?" Qyburn patted Bran's leg so he would feel it, the legs that had feeling again.

"Its hard for your brain to process so much at once, Bran. You must be patient, there will be many side effects for some time. Your emotions will return, at least in some ways. For now, feel your legs, see how they move? You will walk again, that alone is huge. Rest and soon you will be on your feet, back home and able to do so much more in this world than you could have ever imagined!"


	35. Reflect, Deflect, And Debate

Hot Pie and Arya didn't take the news of Lommy well. They were less upset over him turning furry as they were over his torture. Damon and Alyn refused to go into any detail but Hot Pie knew damned well how far Polliver, Raff and Tickler can go. Arya was pretty sure that her friend's round pale face meant it was more awful than she would want to hear. Sam hugged them both and tried to console them. It concerned him that Arya wasn't crying, that Hot Pie was streaming tears but not speaking. The girl went straight to anger and the boy seemed to dive straight into his own personal hell-scape.

When Hot Pie did finally speak it wasn't anything good at all. "I hope Lommy tormented Raff, I hope it was slow and every bite was fucking delicious. I hope Lommy takes out as many in this fucking rotting town as he can before they hunt and kill him. And I hope its a bloodbath, this town and all of us in it deserve it. We offer each other up for sacrifice every fall whether we mean to or not. We can't even help it or stop it." Arya started punching walls and raging about Polliver and Tickler until Damon forced her into his arms. He let her squirm, kick and scream, cursing and finally, she sunk down, too tired for anymore emotion.

"Listen, I know this isn't much revenge to offer you, but Roose told us something. And you can't fucking repeat it. He plans on taking down Polliver and Tickler for both Raff and Lommy's deaths. And for all the werewolf related deaths this fall. They will get life if not execution if it goes far enough. So if you can just evade them until the end of fall, Roose will arrest them and they pay hard." Arya was allowed to pull away then, as she was calm but cold, ice formed in her eyes and Damon knew there was no way these two kids will survive. Because they can't, won't, let this go. Arya and Hot Pie walked away from the men and began to whisper together.

Sam turned to Alyn and Damon. "They aren't going to just hide until the end of fall, are they?" Damon sighed and Alyn shrugged. "Nope, I don't think they are letting it go." Damon grunted, "Great. So we should be burying their bodies right before turkey day. That will really help my appetite."

 

The sun was beginning to give everything an unearthly glow through a fading mist as Damon drove up Arya's street. "Hot Pie will be safe with Alyn and Sam. And I am pretty sure that Polliver and Tickler aren't stupid enough to attack you if you are with your mother. And me, Alyn and Sam are available to give you a ride for the rest of the month, okay? Same as with Hot Pie. If we can't drive you or him and your mom can't help you, then you wait or call a cab to where you want to go. No walking outside with anyone else but us or an adult. Okay?" Arya gave him a look that clearly said to fuck off but she nodded as she got out of the car.

Ungrateful little shit, I am trying to help you! Snorting, Damon drove home to try and get just a bit of fucking sleep. It's not his fault if the kids get killed now, they have been offered everything the guys can do to help protect them.  He crawled into his bed as soon as he got home, only shucking off his shoes and clothing on the way there. Leaving a trail from his locked apartment door to his bedroom of laundry, Damon fell naked onto the mattress with a thud.  Sleep came fast and hard, his muscles relaxing and his brain wandering away into peaceful darkness.

The junior detention center bathroom had a harsh smell to it, of human waste and the bracing soap at the sinks. A smell of cleaning product that the janitor half ass slaps around the room with a mop and dirty rags. Damon hated that stink, hated breathing it in, hated this smell, this place with every fiber of his preteen body. Now there was blood everywhere and glass. That fucking voice, in his ear, behind his back, in his head, the clown he saw, it was there too. And in sleep, so deep down that Damon had no fear for this moment. He was a witness to his past, he was in it and watching it all at once. The terror was inside the boy but the man that only saw was feeling only a dim surprise. Damon spoke from his sleeping form, in a clear voice into the silence of his bedroom.

"Oh. The mirror. I see now. My clown. Gotta tell Sam and Alyn. Have to remember the clowns."

 

Arya slipped inside the house and ran to her room with practiced stealth. Slipping into her bedroom, shutting and locking her door fast and silent, Arya turned only to jump and shriek. Luckily, a hand had slapped across her mouth and held firm as she did so it was muffled. The second Arya stopped the shriek, the hand went away. Arya shuddered at the feel of that long elegant hand that actually felt like oiled sandpaper upon her face. Petyr stood before her, tall and judging, his steel eyes taking in all her weaknesses. Or at least that was how it felt. She reminded herself it was only because he represented so much authority. I mean, he's the damned high school principal, he runs social services for kids and now he's half a mayor. So he has to know how to look way bigger and scarier than he probably really is.

This reasoning didn't work when Petyr began to give her a scathing lecture while seeming to press in far too close. Arya found herself shrinking into the door even though Petyr never touched her. "Young lady, I was kind enough to cover for you, having sympathy for all of you in your deep grief. You abused this privilege which I find incredibly heartless and disrespectful. I know that you have suffered and being a teenager, grief shows in many different ways. However, please consider the rest of your family. Your poor mother who has lost her husband, eldest son and stepson, might possibly lose one more to a suicide attempt? With a daughter still missing? Consider your brother in the hospital clinging to life? Or the smallest one who is being consoled by his aunt? Because his mother is too deep in grief, because the rest of his family is dead, his favored brother in a coma and his oldest sister is missing and his other sister is too busy partying to care?"

"That isn't true! I care, don't you dare say that I don't care!" Petyr became a predatory bird at Arya's passionate words and his head tilted like a good raptor, his words a beak diving for prey. "Oh? You care? Were you at church praying for your dead father and brothers souls? Or at the hospital checking on Bran? At your aunt's house to console your little brother? Hmm? Running to a suicide center for help because of your withering despair?" Arya shook her head and tried to come up with a reasonable reply. She chose to deflect. "Why are you here, Mr. Baelish? I mean, still here at this hour? It's morning, sir. Did you sleep with my mother all night, consoling her?"

Her sneer was perfection but Petyr's look of refined deep disgust and disappointment sunk her fast. "I am very sorry to hear that you are so distrustful of your own mother, Arya. How long have you had this animosity towards the woman who cares most about you in the world? To think that your grieving mother would sleep with anyone while her husband's body was still not even in the ground. I stayed because I am a responsible adult who knew a child was missing from the home. It was my duty since I let you go, to make sure you returned. And you know as your mother's closest friend I am always going to be here to help her. Get used to it, Arya. It seems like you and your brothers will need a good stern influence in your lives. I am truly qualified to work with kids like you and Rickon. Your mother is blinded by her love for you both but I am not."

 

Ramsay loved to debate, to challenge and to make deals that are always tilted in his favor. He showed Shireen to the lumpy overstuffed couch and he got two drinks from the fridge. He slammed an large can of energy drink in front of Shireen and a bottle of beer in front of himself on the battered old wooden coffee table, as he got settled on the couch. Shireen stared at her drink and started to reach for it when Ramsay smacked his head. "Ugh! What am I doing? Can't let you drink that at your age, your heart would probably explode. Sorry, what was I thinking." Quickly, he switched the drinks and he opened the energy drink and started to chug it. 

Shireen shrugged and asked Ramsay for help opening the beer. She took a small swallow and gagged. Ramsay gave an apologetic grin. "Sorry, even the beer was pumpkin spice at the local brewery." Ramsay leaned back and grinned at the girl. "Now, why would I want to waste my time teaching you how to kill your family? How could a small thing like you possibly help me find Theon? And how could you have any information that would be worth my trouble?" Taking another few sips of the brew, Shireen burped gently then began to speak.

"I know the location of your missing brother. I also saw something, well, two somethings that pertain to your Theon." Ramsay chuckled. "Pertain? Wow, Shireen. Going to try and sound all educational on me? Okay. I will tell you what. You tell me what you know and I will decide how far to help you, based on how useful your information is to me." Shrieen shook her head and countered, "I won't fall for that. I will tell you about Domeric now and about Theon after I know how far you'll be useful to me." It took about another twenty minutes before Ramsay decided to give in.

"Fine. Domeric now and Theon after I offer what I will do for you." Shireen told Ramsay in full detail about hearing her parents and the priestess planning it, how they would kidnap Domeric, how she was there to see him burn. She saw his burnt body put into a velvet bag, a large metal box and stuffed into a cabinet, locked inside a small closet. Ramsay's eyes glowed for a moment. "I will admit, I hated him, I feel a bit grateful that they removed him from my life. But the way it was done, no, that wasn't right at all and they took my right to kill him away. Plus, all this time, my father has been thinking of only his missing son, I was nothing anymore, not even what I was before. Nothing compared to the ghost of Domeric! Your parents and that bitch have pissed me off now. I will teach you how to murder them. I will be your tutor but no physical help and you cannot use any of my weapons."

Shireen nodded grimly satisfied. Even if that is all Ramsay will offer, it is good. However, she is sure more can come of this once he hears the rest.

"I meant what I said about being able to help you find Theon. I am going to tell you now since I know you'll tutor me. If it gets me more from you, great, if not, I am grateful for the tutoring. I met Euron Greyjoy on the docks just a few days back. He was coming for his nephew and niece. And I've seen Yara on my walks the past few days, looking crazier and crazier. Always wearing heavy hooded jackets and her eyes all angry and nervous. She had Theon the last time I saw her, he was out cold and she dragged him into her car. I haven't seen her car since then. Ramsay, I'm not a fighter in the physical sense, but I can sneak, spy and think. It's how I see everything or as much as I can around this town. I have lots of free time since my parents don't pay attention to the sacrifice that much. Only when my friends can hang out, otherwise, I walk, I observe and wonder what happens around here beyond my own fucked up issues. I can help you with finding your boyfriend if you want me to."

Another ten minutes or so later, the two shook hands firmly. "I will tutor and offer mild physical assistance. You will assist me in finding my boy." Shireen smiled and nodded, half buzzed. She asked for another beer and Ramsay laughed, telling her she has had enough pumpkin spice for one night. "Now, we need your brain not so fuzzy in order for us to plan. Do you think you can safely be home until we speak again? Or will they notice you missing if you just crashed here on my couch? Rather not return you in this condition, they might decide to sacrifice you as a punishment and ritual combo."

Shireen shrugged. "I never know when it will happen. I just know they don't notice me unless I am right there. Then they just watch me and every word they say to me sounds like a script. Its a roll of the dice every time I go in the door. I just don't know what will happen or when. I just know it will end in my death. I saw the fucking new ritual sheet that the whore priestess left out on father's desk the other day. I'm not supposed to be in his office but I saw her leave from it and was curious. It shows the fucking SKETCH of me on their burning rack!" Ramsay considered this for a moment. "Hmm...okay. I have an idea if you feel up for hearing it." 

It wasn't concern for Shireen as much as the urge to get her to help him find Theon that spurred Ramsay into action. Ramsay knew that his boy was in terrible trouble and needed him. But this little girl could help, she is the only one who seems to care so he will take it. Girl can't help him if her parents are murdering her and Ramsay needs Domeric's bones. He needs to present them to his father, Ramsay had to be the one to do it and to claim justice for it as well. Maybe Roose will notice he has a live son then. But that paled against finding and saving his Reek. So Ramsay spoke and watched Shireen get some flare into her eyes.


	36. Surviving Any Way At All

Theon was cowering at the very back of the cave where his sister had left him with strict orders not to leave. As if he would dare go out there while these crazy bitches were hunting? He had muttered a very timid yes and huddled deep into his filthy blankets while the women had sniffed him over before leaving with yips and howls. For a while he huddled there hearing the wolves howl further and further away. It never crossed his mind to leave, to escape or even to venture out of this one hidden spot of the den. The most daring Theon could manage was to take off the blankets and reach for his water bottle.

He heard something coming, someone, with a wild crazed burst of hope, Theon thought maybe it was Ramsay. Not that being with him was great or not terrifying and painful in its own way, but it was way better than this. Then fear, icy fear filled him as the werewolf prowled slowly into the den and began to shift, flowing, cracking as it came towards him. Theon whimpered and slowly, very slowly, never move fast, never scream and he slid backwards until he pressed hard into the rocks. Sansa didn't fully regain human form, but enough to be able to speak. "Yara is dead. Our predators are out tonight, they took her. Tortured and killed her. I am alpha now." Theon gasped and tears poured for his sister. But the ginger fur on the half woman, half wolf was bristling, her eyes narrowed upon him and she was closer, closer.

"Please...Alpha...don't eat me. Please?" Theon kept his eyes low in deference, in submission, he didn't dare move away when the sniffing at his face began. Sansa was crawling over him and he was unaware that he was trying to climb up and through the rock wall. This seemed to only serve to amuse the wolf and a rough tongue came to taste his saltwater tears. His breathing and pulse sped up and small whimpers came from his throat. Sansa gave a growling laugh and sat on Theon's slight lap, her face stuck in his. "I don't want to eat you, I want to turn you, mate you and make a powerful pack. But I won't have my breeding wolf acting like some arrogant male who thinks he is ever even equal to me!" As Sansa became upset over the thought of another male ever attempting to steal her dreams, she became more deadly. Her words were delivered in a soft roar as her nails grew thicker, rougher and started to shred the blankets he wore. Teeth were gnashing at him and drool splattered on his face.

He needed to defuse her or Sansa will kill him right now. Her rage and past traumas will not allow this alpha to think clearly, at least not yet. Not in time for Theon to survive, only for Sansa to regret losing a potential mate after she ripped him apart. Theon was an arrogant youth that Sansa remembers from her past, she never really knew Reek. So Reek came forth, after all, it was similar to Ramsay, a person who wanted to hurt and fuck him but struggled to not go all out and murder him. A person who is desperate for power and suspicious of all trying to steal it away.  And Ramsay was a person who taught Reek how to survive anything to keep himself breathing. Large round eyes full of fear, respect and awe only side glanced up into the predator's eyes. Then went low again and he used his best "Master, please" voice to try and live a little longer. 

"Alpha...please, I will be good. I will obey, be loyal and be grateful that you allowed me to live. Please, mercy, Alpha, please don't hurt me...I will be yours, I will always know my place, please?" Sansa nipped lightly at the panicked slim throat and her whole body seemed to soak in the lovely begging. That was placating, it was lovely but it wasn't enough because Theon felt her hesitating over his throat, debating how nice it would look torn open. In true terror, Reek shamefully committed submissive urination as he whimpered, limp, not resisting, just shaking in what was left of his blanket. A deep sniff and the wolf calmed, it accepted this creature understood it's place. The part that was still Sansa found this version of Theon much more pleasing than his old self. "Good boy. If you behave for me, I won't make it hurt when I turn you. And if you ever try to challenge me, disobey me or turn any of our pack against me, I will slaughter you slowly."

Theon nodded wordlessly and shut his eyes, not wanting to watch Sansa bite him. But she heard something with her new ears that Theon couldn't and she was tensing. "Get back in that corner on your nest. Do not move until I tell you to." "Yes, Alpha." Theon had no idea what gave him a reprieve but he eagerly took it. The second Sansa moved off him, he crawled fast but very low to show he was groveling, submissive, then cowered in a ball in the corner, his blankets pulled up. A glance from the wolf told him it was correct to do this and he sighed in relief. He watched in fascination as Sansa stood on legs that were red fur and wrong joints. She took two steps forward, blocking the small hallway of the cave to where Theon was.

Then he heard the footsteps, the boots on stone and Theon filled with yet more icy fear. The voice, he remembered that voice from when he was younger. And he remembered how his fearless sister feared Euron, how his father who despised Theon was in fear for him to be near Euron. "Greetings, my dear. I see that you are planning on being the alpha of this pack. Congratulations, dear.  How lovely for you. Now, I'll even tell you a little secret, offer a tad of advice for you. If you truly wish to be leader of your pack, you must find and destroy the werewolf that sired this lovely bitch fest. And with that, I will only take my poor terrified nephew and leave town. I understand that his sister kidnapped him. She must have been trying to save him from his abusive boyfriend yet again. Sad."

Theon hugged himself and cried silently. He heard Sansa snarl. "You can't have him. He is mine, he will be turned and I will make him my breeding bitch. Get out." "My poor nephew, he has been so traumatized. Abusive father, bad situations in school, detention center stays, an abusive boyfriend and now a werewolf sister who kidnaps him and tosses him to the mercy of a sex crazed werewolf with a power issue. It will be better for you just to move out of the way and let me help my poor nephew. The boy needs me. I truly don't wish to have to fight and kill you first, but I will if its needed. Is it needed? Or would you rather live long enough to rule the pack at least until the Cleganes reach you?"

Sansa began to change while a roaring howl built, one meant to call others to the attack. "Ah, well I guess that is my answer. Don't worry, little Theon, Uncle will be there soon." Theon couldn't help a loud sob and then he heard his uncle give a dreadful chuckle as he began to ready himself to fight. "Ah, I was afraid they killed you or turned you already. Of course all you can do is huddle and cry. Don't worry, nephew, I will help you very soon. Just wait right there for me, little Theon." He hid under the blankets, hearing the clash and the deafening screams and roars from Sansa. There was a hole in the blanket and he found himself daring to peek out of it. There was a splash of blood on the rocks around the entrance to Theon's nest area.

The redhead had clawed at the pirate vampire but the wounds closed quickly. With a shark smile and flat eyes, Euron lifted the wolf and smashed her again against the rocks then dropped her. Sansa tried to gain her bearings, she would heal fast but not nearly as fast as the vampire. Euron withdrew his cutlass as he watched, head tilted, as the werewolf staggered back to four paws and tried to steady herself for attack. A smooth rich chuckle flowed through the room and tingled awfully in Theon's bones. "Ah, girl, you gave it a very good effort. You did and I applaud you. But you are too new and too temperamental for both attacking a master vampire and to be an alpha." This caused Sansa to leap on final time, letting her rage fuel her and the cutlass came fast.

Theon winced as he watched the crimson stream that Euron drank from. Long fingers entwined in the fur as Sansa's eyes rolled and her body twitched. Euron held the werewolf up so he could sip at the stream then he dropped her to finish bleeding out on the rocky surface. That is when it hit Theon why his father and sister might have been so afraid of Euron. Because the dreaded pirate uncle was a fucking vampire! Why they couldn't have shared that part of information with him? Silent tears scalded his face and wet the blanket. He longed for Ramsay's piercing eyes, sadist ways and his familiar torture room. Anything but this. Euron stepped over the dying wolf, now human as she passes, to stand before the tiny huddled sobbing ball of a nephew. 

"Poor boy, look what they have all done to you. Don't worry, uncle has you now. Everything is going to be fine. You will be a good boy for me, won't you, Theon? After all you have gone through, you don't want to make me have to make you behave, do you?" Theon shuddered hard at the sight of the boots in front of him and the threatening but polite voice over him. "I...I will be good. A good boy. Please, I will behave." Euron patted his nephew's head and ignored the way the boy flinched slightly. He lifted the slight boy into his arms as if he were a babe. "Look at how thin and weak you are. It's good I came when I did, you need me to protect you and teach you. Don't worry, I will care for you properly. When I bite you, it will be gentle, I will stay with you while your body dies and is reborn. I will train you in everything you need to know. I am going to give you a goal, a purpose in life that doesn't involve having to grovel and drown in fear. You should be grateful for that, little Theon."

And just as he did for his father, his sister and Ramsay, now his uncle, Theon rolled his eyes up slightly then in a very submissive tone told Euron how grateful he was. A cut on Theon's leg from when Yara first dragged him to her home,started to throb again but he ignored it. Nothing mattered but not upsetting his uncle with the very sharp teeth and love for drinking blood. Theon laid limp in his uncle's hold and let his head bump on his uncle's shoulder as the man began to walk through the woods, heading to take Theon away on a ship, on the sea. This terrified Theon but at the same time, would this be as bad as the other things? His uncle would teach him and guide him into being a powerful creature that others feared. That did have potential and Theon decided not to think about it anymore. 

 


	37. Hunter Moon

Unella crept, listened, gave herself back to the hunter moon and forgot earlier issues. She heard a trilling whistle and she tensed, teeth bared, almost a smile. It was Sandor, signaling her that he has wounded a werewolf and it was heading towards her. Crouching, readying her crossbow, Unella waited, her breath stilling, her heart slowing, waiting. The large snarling red beast didn't charge from the bushes as she expected. Instead it decided to come in a bounding leap from her left, blood pattering across the ground from the beast. Unella swung and released, knocking the mighty wolf to the ground. The arrow was deep in the meat of it's shoulder, she could see Sandor's arrow sticking out of one of it's haunches.

Regardless of it's injuries the wolf was not going to try and run for it's life. It knew Unella and the others would only stalk her, follow the blood and kill her. With a fearsome snarl, the wounded werewolf did a quick turn then took a jump for the warrior. Pulling her largest blade fast, Unella fell onto her back in a practiced move, holding the dagger in front of her chest, the bone handle just above her solar plexus. The wolf came at her and was about to land upon her and the blade when the most amazing thing Unella ever saw happened. One minute the werewolf was hurtling at her, the next there was a large gray hand that seemed to just pluck the wolf away as if it were a housefly. Two large hands now, one holding the beast by it's neck, the other hand on it's haunches. 

Unella lay there stunned, blade frozen in place as Gregor used no more than his hands to rip the werewolf in two. Blood, hot and coppery, salty and tingling with a darkish power that made her moan, it sprayed, splattered, streamed upon Unella and Gregor. The intestines of the beast slid out onto the forest floor, steaming in the chilly air. Gregor panted and he noticed Unella did the same, both amazed and excited at this, his new power and strength, the ultimate hunter perhaps. Gregor growled down at his wife, "Drink." He knelt over Unella with a thud, one knee on each side of her hips, still holding half the wolf. She opened her mouth and he tipped the neck so that some of the blood dribbled into her waiting gullet.

She coughed and he stopped the flow with his own mouth and drank deeply. Unella took a deep breath and shivered, moaning softly, the tingle taking over her skin, body as it always does. Drinking from a supernatural kill is a drug, a potion, a thrill like no other and she writhes with it. Gregor tossed the top half of Gilly away and he feels a rush, it was never this sharp before. It was always good, but this was something beyond his normal feeling in his skin, in his head. Perhaps because he recently felt less, it just made things he could feel brighter somehow. Unella saw Gregor covered in blood, he wasn't gray now and his black eyes were full of something. The rush, the joy of the blood and the hunt, their traditional mating would happen now.

Earlier, Unella thought she might not enjoy this year's tradition considering her husband was dead and she already knew what dead flesh felt like inside her. But the blood made him warm, it was slick against them both and Unella felt soaked straight through her thick jeans. Gregor took her blade from her and set it aside, smirking as his normally stoic wife was squirming like a bitch in heat in the leaves. He ripped the Velcro bullet proof vest open then tossed the chest shield under it then finally he reached her shirt. Gregor tugged her shirt and sports bra up. Gregor didn't bite, pinch or twist as he usually likes to. Instead he used his teeth carefully to tease and graze. Unella made high pitched desperate sounds. Her hands at first were scratching into the dirt, she was both stunned and lost by Gregor's unusual actions.

Her hands began to climb him, his arms, feeling the strength, the blood of their prey and they became restless upon him. Gregor gave an approving sound as Unella's blood streaked hands started to undo his jeans. His large strong hand slid between her legs and rubbed, feeling the wetness through the denim. Instead of taunting her for it as would be his normal nature, Gregor leaned down to whisper into Unella's ear. She had given a sharp cry when his hand began to rub at her and her hips moved frantically against his palm. "This is how I like you, how I think you look your best, how I want you to be when I fuck you. Covered in the blood of our prey. Isn't it the way it should be, Unella? Feel how soaking wet you are for me, how much you love the blood, the savageness of it all." Unella harshly whispered, "Don't make me talk."

She slicked his hard flesh with the blood from them both as she pulled it from his jeans and stroked it, lubricating it with Gilly's blood. Gregor had her jeans open and yanked down then off in seconds. A hard thick finger entered her as his large thumb caressed against her swollen folds and Unella whimpered, her hands working frantically upon him. The finger wasn't cold, it was hot with blood and a second added, Unella was lost to sensation, wordless and mindless in need. With a ragged growl, Gregor pulled out of her, pulled his hard flesh out of her slicked hands. He grabbed her legs and yanked Unella hard so the backs of her thighs were pressed up against his chest. Positioning himself, Gregor looked down at her and spoke in a barking tone to her. "You are mine. No one but me could ever make you feel this way. No one but me would allow you this kind of destiny, to be a slayer, to drink of your kills, to give you this kind of pleasure. Who do you belong to, Unella?"

Groaning, she writhed and bit out words. "You. I belong to you. Your wife, your hunter, your slayer. Only you can give me all of this." Unella hoped it was enough for him to just shut up and let her have what she needed, wanted. It was only once a year and damn it, Unella was not going to lose her one chance to enjoy herself fully. Gregor thrust into her hard, savage and dominate, every inch of him over her now and Unella screamed with the force of it. Pleasure and pain warred within her. But she was slick from excitement and so was he, plus he had added werewolf blood to himself before entering her. She arched and whined as Gregor stayed seated deep within her, not moving for a moment. Unella looked up at him and saw how he was holding himself in check, saw the teeth, those large blood stained teeth and thought of how he ate Cersei's face. For a second, she returned to icy fear and worse was he saw it.

Gregor leaned down further until his body was pressed against her and his lips at her ear. "I won't bite you like that. I want you panting under me and screaming like the little desperate hunter you are. I stopped to make sure your scream didn't attract any wolves. Not to eat your face." Gregor started to move, slow at first, agonizingly so, Unella starting to move and moan. Her nails scratched at him and she began to whisper for him to go harder. Only when Unella was desperate for it, did Gregor increase his pace and thrust harder. Gregor pulled out and Unella wailed a curse, as he laughed at her. He lifted her onto him, she curled her legs as far as they could go around him. She didn't care that he stood up, so far up and she clung to him like a monkey. Reentering her with a good thrust that made Unella scream, Gregor used his large hands to move her up and down.

 

Petyr and Arya ran down the hall towards Cat's bedroom, heading towards the grief stricken screams. Cat was sitting upright in her bed, her eyes were full of the moon and she was clawing at her face, her expensive fake nails, speckled with blood. Her youngest daughter wrapped her arms around her and her best friend grabbed her hands but Cat didn't see either of them. In a hollow voice, Cat finally moaned out, "I had a dream. I dreamed Sansa was dead. I dreamed that she was in the woods and died."

Arya started to cry and hugged her mother tightly, the punk has melted to just a young girl who has just finally understood that most of her family was truly never coming back again. "No...mom, no! Listen, dreams are not real. Sansa might be fine or...just missing."Cat blinked and seemed to finally come fully awake but she looked at Arya with a sad firmness. "She is dead. In the woods. I don't know how or why...but I didn't just dream it, Arya. I can feel it in my heart. I felt it when your father and brother died. The second they died, I just knew."

Petyr patted Cat's hand and smoothly tried to reassure the ladies. "Cat, the first second that we know Roose enters that office of his, we shall call him. Don't mention the dream, of course, but we shall demand that he have trackers do a daytime intense sweep as soon as possible. Hell, we can go one better if you'd like. I am sure that Damon would love a little extra money on the side. He is not just animal control, he is a great tracker, a good hunter and he has worked or run every search and rescue along with Jon and Ygritte every year. I'll call him in a bit, ask him to take a run up there for a bit of extra holiday pay."

The mention of Jon was all Arya could take and suddenly Cat was snapped out of her stupor by loud heart-wrenching sobs. Petyr simply moved back and watched as Cat rocked her wailing little girl in her lap, sobbing into Arya's messy hair. Howls outside the window seemed to be joining the grieving and it reached a level that Petyr found nearly deafening. If I had any type of real heart, it would be bleeding right now for all this damned sorrow. He gave a shiver and knew he wouldn't be going home until daylight. True light when these wailing beasts were gone, dead by the slayers or hiding in their dens.

A house phone began to ring from wherever Rickon last tossed it and the sound was jarring at this hour. And yet it just fit right in with the wailing women and the howling. Crazily, Petyr thought, why not, let's have a fire engine, a fire alarm or maybe just a bicycle horn could make my fucking head explode! Cat gasped and Arya leaped up, yelling it was probably the hospital about Bran. The three of them staggered around like blind newborn field mice trying to find the ringing thing.

Petyr stared with frustrated confusion when Arya suddenly dove into the sink of dirty dishes and pulled a slightly slippery phone out of it. "Got it! Hello?" The girl nearly lost a hand as her mother grabbed the phone from her. A moment later, Cat hung up and screeched to Arya, "Your brother is awake and talking! Bran is talking and MOVING HIS LEGS!" Arya gave a responding cry and the two hugged, sobbing louder before than before.

Petyr steadied himself and knew that family life would really be an adjustment for him. The things he was willing to sacrifice for love and privileged marriage.

 

Unella threw her head back and found herself screaming into the night as her orgasm overtook her. Wolves howled, not very far away, loud and mournful and the monster slayer's scream seemed to meld into it, ripping through it with not grief but pleasure as if to defy, to challenge sorrow and misery itself. Gregor bit into his wife's neck but kept himself from truly wounding her. His teeth sunk just enough for him to taste her blood, as her pleasure shook her whole body and he gave a muffled groan into her neck as he lost control. He felt himself pour into her, Gregor has never been able to be this deep inside of her, Unella has never been this strong before, this unreserved.

Falling to his knees afterward, Gregor panted, shuddering, Unella limp on him, trying to breathe again. They heard footsteps and Gregor tossed his wife off him with a fierce whisper for her to put herself together. Adjusting himself fast, he stood up and blocked Unella from view as Gregor watched Euron Greyjoy head down the path towards them carrying Theon. Euron looked up at Gregor and smirked.

"You are lucky that the bitches are still mourning the death of their pack members. So loud and uncontrolled of the two of you, in the middle of a hunt, I applaud you for the danger kink! Like myself, werewolves have exceptional hearing and all our senses are heightened beyond your understanding. So I received quite a show, we all did. However, all marriages need a little spice after awhile, right? Well, my nephew and I are off to other adventures. And since I don't intend to return, I guess I should congratulate you both early! Congratulations and I hope it's a strong hunter like the both of you are. See, Theon? A little sugar can go a long way. Even if I did have to fight them, I would have been polite the whole time."

Unella came forward as Gregor tilted his head. "What do you mean? Congratulations on what?" Euron looked confused at them for a moment, Theon restless in his arms and he squeezed his nephew tightly, hushing him. "Well...on the baby. Oh wait. That's right, slayers aren't like true supernatural creatures. I could sense when your undead husband released some rather aggressive sperm, raging and battling right through your pulsing tender scar tissue, so deeply in you. And now I can feel how one of them has won, already deep in your womb, a small tender new being grows. I never saw you as father material, Gregor and Unella, as a mother...well, congratulations and good bye."

 

Waiting only long enough for the vampire to walk away, Sandor came forward. His look of shock matched the other two faces. Gregor spoke only once.

"We are done for tonight."

In silence, the three of them walked back to the truck and packed away their gear. The ride home was silent as well. Even when they were caring for their items, storing things away and showering, putting on pajamas. No one said anything, no one looked at each other. Any punishment Unella was going to receive for her hesitation much earlier that evening was forgotten. Sandor went to bed without a word to anyone and he was able to sleep, not wanting to think of any of that shit, thank you very much. Gregor showered after his wife did and when he came into the bedroom, he expected to find her there.

Instead he found her at the top of the stairs and he reached out just as she threw herself down the deep stairwell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am inspired by music as I write. My music tastes are deranged and my music lists confuse my family.   
> But I felt like sharing this. In order to write the scene between Gregor and Unella (which was a request), I listened to the following songs for inspiration:  
> Bad Romance by Lady Gaga  
> Super Beast by Rob Zombie  
> Bed of Nails and by Alice Cooper  
> The Beast by Concrete Blond  
> Welcome To The Jungle by Guns N Roses  
> Devil Inside by INXS  
> Poison by Alice Cooper


	38. Love Strangles When Shoved Down The Throat

Lysa's mood when the boys woke up was brilliant. It scared Rickon a little bit, just like the locked door, the sounds of a dog late last night and then an unlocked door. Her smile was so wide, her eyes burning bright and she kept giggling. She had rosy cheeks and looked like a little girl with a splendid but naughty secret. Robin seemed to accept his nutty mother at any mood she has. "Boys! I hope you both slept well. I was extra hungry when I woke this morning and so I got started cooking a little early. Also...Robin...my sweet pea...and Rickon...my strange but most acceptable of your family...I have made us a true, real treat! Come and see!"

Robin gasped in awe and sniffed deeply, unused to being allowed to eat such things except on rare occasion. His mother was very particular about him only eating small amounts of very lean meat most times. Rickon looked at the homemade ground up sausage and cuts of ham frying along with eggs,potatoes and onions. He wasn't sure what the big deal was. His mother had made eggs with breakfast meats every Saturday morning since he can remember. However, Rickon understood that it was a big deal here. Just like he did at the disgusting dinner last night, Rickon smiled and thanked his aunt politely.

He didn't eat as much during breakfast as he normally does however. The meat tasted strange, not like it does when his mother makes it. Too tough and a rather greasy film was left in his mouth, making him want to kind of puke a little. Robin and Lysa ate even more than his brothers or father would. They didn't eat like this last night at dinner, must be something about not getting meat an awful lot. Kind of like how Rickon gets over sneaking some forbidden junk food. Robin turned to Rickon and grinned. "Mother only makes this kind of special meat like maybe once every month or so, like a really really long time in between, you know? It's good, right?"

Feeling rather unwell suddenly, Rickon could only nod and mutter, "It's really good, I like it a lot. My mom never lets me have stuff this good. But I need to use the bathroom, may I be excused please?" For one wild second, Lysa looked like she might launch at him, cramming meat down his throat while screaming for him to eat it until he dies. Then Rickon blinked and she was smiling and waving him away girlishly. "Oh dear, you look very pale, dear. Your mother needs to bring you to the doctor for a check up, not that she will. Tut, tut. Don't get sick here, use the bathroom, please. Go on, you are excused from breakfast. At least you got some real food in you for once. My damned sister would never let you eat this rich food, you are right on that. Go ahead, nephew."

Rickon stumbled until the bathroom, shutting and locking the laughter out. He crouched over the toilet but his stomach seemed to settle. A gurgle and he spun around, the sick was apparently choosing another exit. He felt pale and shaky for a while afterwards but it did start to fade away by the time he was dressed and packed to go. Lysa trilled that she would drive the boy home rather than have him walk after not feeling so well. She had decided that Robin would take the same amount of bereavement days out of school as Rickon did. After all, it was Robin's uncle and cousins that died! Varys was not a middle school principle about to bother with such frivolous things. Let the crazy woman keep her kid out of class, he doesn't mind letting the teachers have the break from the little brat.

 

Humming, Lysa drove up to her sister's house and there her good mood shattered into a thousand sharp pieces. The fingers on the steering wheel turned white and the knuckles bulged, plastic slightly buckling under the pressure. "That...bitch. That...hussy! Couldn't even wait until her husband was in the ground!" Rickon and Robin heard the hissed words ending in a growling whiny sound. Following his cousin's lead, Rickon stayed dead still and very silent as if he weren't alive at all. His eyes tried to see what Lysa was seeing that was so enraging. He looked for a hussy or a bitch and the only thing he saw were cars in the driveway.

There was Petyr's car and as nauseating as it was to have a school person at his home too, it was normal enough. This was earlier than he would show up to visit his mom, usually late afternoon and only on weekends.  Then it occurred to Rickon that maybe Lysa was jealous that Uncle Petyr was mom's friend. (The repulsive man and his mom seemed to like it when he called him that.) He has heard his mother and father mention and joke about how lonely Lysa was. And that she would have given anything to get Petyr to be her friend. "Aunt Lysa, when a parent dies, the principal visits the house to check in to make it look nice. Like when Varys showed up at your house for you and Robin when uncle Jon died?" Robin stared at Rickon like he was crazy for daring to speak. 

And yet, it seemed to avert the worst of whatever was in Lysa's eyes. They had started to glow in a way that might have scared the shit out of Rickon had he not emptied himself earlier. Now she nodded and her breathing slowed a little, her voice was ragged and a bit frantic. "Yes, yes, that is it! He keeps very early hours because he must go straight to school afterwards. How silly of me, of course. Look, there he is, in fact, you were right about something, Rickon. Mark your calender and remind yourself that even a Stark can be right on occasion, dear boy!" Rickon scrambled for the door handle upon seeing Petyr, even the repulsive friend of his mom's was better than this nutshow. "Thank you, Aunt Lysa! You always make sure we have the best times!" Proof that the woman was crazy was that she believed every word Rickon just said. "You are welcome, Rickon. I promise that if anything ever happens to the rest of your family, you will always have us."

 

Petyr groaned as he walked forth and saw Lysa staring at him like he was her supper. Rickon flew out of her car like his ass was on fire and he flew past him. "Hi, Uncle Petyr!" A quick move and he had the boy in his arm, he quickly adjusted his choke hold as Arya and Cat came out. "Wait, Rickon. Your brother is awake, your mother and sister are going to the clinic to see him. You should join them. I am sure he will love to see you." He patted the boy's shoulder and gave him a friend but hard push towards his family. 

Cat hugged her son and told him to get into the car along with Arya. She saw her sister now hurrying out of the car and leaned close to Petyr. "Oh no, fifty shades of crazy is coming for us. Please, I cannot handle her right now. Can you just take one for the team, this once? I know how you feel about her but I really need to go. I'll grab the kids and take Sansa's car. I...I think I like that idea anyway, I would feel close to her that way. Thank you, Petyr. I'll call you later on." Petyr sighed but nodded. He wanted to drop them off so Cat would have to call him for a ride home later, but it wasn't to be. And he did have other duties to attend to today, he will have to be patient. 

The things that he sacrifices for Cat are endless and unknown to her which hurts the most. Someday soon, Cat will come to rely on him solely and then he can show her what things he truly has sacrificed for her. For now, he let the woman and her children run off while he faced Lysa. Petyr had the distinct joy of loving one sister while despising the other. And yet, the sister he hated was the one who had always wanted to be with him while Cat never allowed him past her defenses. Lysa kept trying to love him while he chased the sister who couldn't love him. It was always so twisted and Petyr had made a few mistakes himself. He tried to use Lysa to make Cat jealous by giving her attention, taking her on a few dates.

Cat had laughed her ass off at him, seeing his game right away. "This is why you are my best friend and not my boyfriend." Petyr didn't understand that statement but dropped Lysa like a hot potato after that. Lysa didn't take it well and Petyr couldn't seem to ever quite shake her off totally. During the prom dance, the whole class had gotten drunk and wandered off premises. Cat invited Petyr to join her and the other popular kids at a hotel with a club ready to invite these kids into their first taste of adult partying. They all followed Cersei Lannister and her boyfriend Robert Baratheon to this posh city building made of glass, far from the dusty town.

Lysa was with them of course, she tagged along and was as unwanted as Petyr was sometimes. This night was one of those as they watched the others pair off and dance. They sat drinking their first true adult drinks and they tasted nothing but bitterness. Cat was lovely in her long fairy tale green dress, her hair done up in an elaborate bun with long red tendrils curling down her face. She only saw Ned as she danced and laughed. Cersei and Robert drank heavily and danced as if they would die if they stopped.

Roose had sat with them for a while then he was finally forced by his girlfriend, Bethany, to go dance. The man had looked like he was being tortured rather than just joining a line dance. Petyr and Lysa drank enough that they ended up in her hotel room. It was messy, quick and Petyr barely even could recall it. Lysa stalked him for some time afterwards until her father noticed and put an quick end to it. Nothing like a forced marriage to an older man to end a young lady's crush. No one was happier for Jon and Lysa than Petyr himself. It didn't stop Lysa from still attempting to woo Petyr on occasion but it had lessened greatly. Then her husband died and here was Lysa back after her old crush.

But Petyr will sacrifice himself yet again for love and smiles as Lysa rushes up to him. Her smile is too large, her teeth too sharp, her eyes too wide and her hands look slightly like claws. Standing his ground, Petyr smoothly began to speak to calm the woman before she eats him alive or rapes him on her sister's lawn. "Ah, Lysa, look how harried you are! Poor darling, your hair is flying about in the wind. Don't be worried over it, everyone will understand. You have gone through such a sacrifice to help your sister during her tragedy. Of course, you are putting aside your own self because you are such a loving aunt that you simply had to help that little boy understand such sadness. Only you would be the one to know exactly how to help. I always have admired that about you, Lysa."

 

Cat was crying as she carefully drove towards the hospital. The car smelled of baby powder, old soda cans and Sansa's favorite perfume. She breathed deeply and listened to the last radio station Sansa had turned on. Arya and Rickon babbled about how Bran will be and the fact that he might walk again. Cat was quite skeptical about that herself. Dr. Pycelle had stressed to Cat, Ned and Bran over and over again that it would never happen. No matter what things they had looked up or tried ever seemed to sway that opinion.

Cat had even given in to her son and drove over four hours once for an experimental treatment that cost enough money for new bionic legs as Ned had yelled. The treatments caused Bran pain and changed nothing in the end. Maybe his legs had only moved due to some nerves working out some glitches? Or muscle memory? Unless Cat saw it for herself, she would say nothing of it.

In thirty minutes time Cat has become just...stunned. Bran walked to the window and back and Cat still had trouble with it. He was...different in other ways too. Her son's eyes were pitch black as if all pupil, grayish skin, cool to the touch and his voice was flat, just almost robotic, no emotion to it. A boy who has spent time paralyzed and receives his working legs back would be jubilant, wouldn't he? Instead, it was like a bored teenager showing off his latest project. Cat tried to tell herself she was the one that was acting wrong. She went to get coffee at the hospital cafeteria and bought some apple cider donuts for the kids.

Bran didn't want to try one but Rickon and Arya ate them. Then Cat saw the eyes of her children, the ones without black eyes. Arya and Rickon looked as uneasy and unsure as she did, like something was very wrong. Cat told the kids to enjoy the donuts, kissed her son's cold forehead and set off to find the doctor. She had questions and dammit, they will be answered or else.


	39. Shame

Unella was braced for the pain, the possible wreckage of her body until she died or expelled this hellspawn. She wanted to close her eyes as she plunged but they fixed open, in frozen horrific anticipation as the hard edge of the stairs came closer in a rush. The wood of the third stair down brushed hard against her nose and then Unella was pulled up so fast, her neck snapped back. For one dreadful moment, she thought her neck was broken that she might be paralyzed. Pain rushed in and then she was flying a whole new direction.

She landed on the bed so hard that for a terrible second it cracked as the springs raised hard into her back before settling. There wasn't enough breath left in Unella's body to move, she lay like a rag doll sprawled at strange angles. Gregor stormed towards the bed and then he climbed over her until he was face to face with her. Unlike just a few hours before, he was no longer covered in blood and moonlight. He was no longer interested in the passion they shared the night before. No, this was barely even resembling husband at home. This was undead Gregor that has eaten the person he thought Unella dared to have as a friend. This was the cold, pitiless giant with coal black eyes and a very bad temper.

With a whimper, Unella forced herself to not look down, to look up at him. He opened his mouth and Unella wondered if he was going to eat her face. Instead he spoke, or rather growled in a terrible menacing tone. "Why?" It took courage to live with the Cleganes, it took courage to be a slayer, to face down unholy creatures that want to rip you apart upon sight. But it took so much more courage to look at Gregor and force out, "Abomination. Dead sperm and live eggs do not work. What have you put inside of me? I will not bear it, Gregor. I can only take so much. This is shameful, it's wrong and it's not...it might be a monster. A slayer cannot raise or love a monster."

Gregor truly managed to hold back and used only the back of his hand, one light blow to each cheek. Unella spit blood on the second strike and he wrapped his hand around her throat tightly. He watched as she struggled to suck in the small amount of air he was allowing her. Leaning in close again, he made sure every word he spoke was clear and heard, understood by his stupid, stubborn little wife. "You don't get to decide what you can take and what you can't. Dead or alive, I make all the rules in this house. For you, for my brother and for any child in your stomach. You will come with me to Qyburn today. While I have my visit, he can see if you are pregnant or if the vampire was fucking with us. Now, listen very, very carefully, Unella. If you EVER decide to try anything like that again, if you try to run away, try to kill yourself or try to harm whatever is in your stomach, I'm going to make sure it's the very LAST time it happens."

He stared hard into her eyes until tears started to come leaking down her swollen cheeks and then he continued speaking. One of his thick cold fingers began to trace her face in an almost gentle but freezing cold manner that somehow made it so much worse. "If you ever try any of those things or something even more inventive...I will incapacitate you. I won't kill you, even if you aren't pregnant. If you run, I'm going to tie you down and while you watch, I'm going to eat your entire foot up to the ankle. If you try in any way to kill yourself, I'm going to tie you down and eat your hands off. If you try to rid yourself of a pregnancy, it will be both hands and both feet. After a few months, once you've learned your lesson, I would allow Qyburn to give you adaptive gear. Are we clear now?"

Unella nodded and tried twice to speak past the brutal truth in his eyes, that Gregor, her husband would be willing to eat parts of her as a punishment. "Yes, I am clear. I'm sorry." Gregor gave a final hard squeeze to her neck then got off her and rolled to his side of the bed. Turning his back towards her and pulling the covers up over them both, he muttered, "Go to sleep, now. We have the alarm set for mid morning, then we will see the doctor." Unella curled up as far from Gregor as she could and huddled under the covers she wrapped around herself. For a short time she silently cried and stared hard at the wall, her mind scurrying like a trapped mouse. Sleep was a tricky thing that crept up and stole her away. Taking it for the mercy it was, Unella sunk into a thin slumber.

 

Polliver and Hot Pie both dreamed of each other in dreams that made them toss and turn as the sun carefully was sneaking up upon the day. And they dreamed of the exact same thing. That fucking detention center, the terrible smells of it, caged animals, restless and trying to survive. It was feared, it was hated equally but that is where the thoughts, the memories and emotions split off. They both sweat and whimpered but the nightmare has become black terror for Hot Pie and a mix of horror and enjoyment for Polliver.

Broken glass, blood spilled, blond hair, hulking shadow and Damon's crazed laughter. The poor kid was nearly crazy at that point, he was begging himself and them to stop, even as he couldn't, didn't, wouldn't. It was Tickler that kept up a low giggle that mixed sort of nicely with Damon's lunatic bellowing and Piggy's sobbing in long self-pitying loops. And the voice, that smooth silken voice urging, tempting, taunting, it's driving Damon mad, maybe Piggy too, but Polliver and Tickler liked it just fine. The dreamers were only observers but they still reacted to what they saw, to who they were. To who was speaking to them, guiding them, teaching them, tutoring them into a twisted nightmare that had been a reality once.

Both spoke in their sleep. "I can't...you...you can't MAKE, make me do that!" "Damon, don't, someone make him stop before there's nothing left for the rest of us! I don't want to hear, tired of listening...always hearing...fucking clowns..." "No...NO! I'm sorry, please don't...not the clowns..I can't tell, I can't help....I'm sorry...I forgot....forgot about..." "Oh shit...forgot...the clowns are back..." Hot Pie sat upright, eyes wide open in Alyn's guest room at the same time that Polliver sat up on a sagging couch in an old girlfriend's trailer.

 

Sandor didn't dare ask any questions, just ate the breakfast Unella made and kept his mouth shut. He was just grateful that Gregor had let them sleep in until ten. "Unella is coming with me to the doctor. We shall find out if she is really pregnant or not. You will finish at the schools and then Petyr asked for us to clear out the area aound that old barn. He wants to make a haunted house there. So get that grass mowed, clear out trash and set up some hay bales and shit. He can do the rest on his own. We go back out tonight so don't go overboard."

Unella was silent and grim as fuck, Sandor didn't dare ask her any questions either. Sandor eyed the bruises on her cheeks and wondered how Gregor was going to explain those to a doctor. Then again, the same doctor apparently makes zombies so he probably won't be too concerned about bruising or possible domestic abuse. Gregor held his wife's arm until he slung her into the car, as Sandor left in the truck. It was a silent car ride for the most part, as they got closer, Unella began to speak. "Do I get to see an actual obstetrician or just this Qyburn?"  "You will see him first and if you are pregnant, we will get his recommendation for the right doctor." Shivering, Unella wrapped her arms around her chest and bit her lip.

She was shoved into a hard plastic chair by Gregor while he had his own visit with Qyburn. Unella thought about wandering around but didn't dare to. What if Gregor thought she was trying to leave? She fully believed his threat to chew and devour pieces of her. And yet, Unella can't stand the idea of giving birth to some half dead thing. Dr. Pycelle had told them all years ago that Unella would never carry a child, that she was sterile. That Gregor had scarred her, injured her beyond nature's repair. Her womb would never give life. So what is it that would be thriving in a barren womb, brought by dead sperm? Just the thought made Unella want to vomit and she tried to flip through some old magazine just to keep from throwing up in some potted plant.   

Unella jumped a little when the outer entrance door to the rather small and silent clinic opened from the main hospital hallway. Cat Stark came storming in and went to confront the receptionist. "He will be out in a moment to see Unella. You may speak with Dr. Qyburn then or make an appointment for a private meeting in his office." Cat sparred verbally for a moment then accepted both an appointment and to speak with him briefly when he popped out. She saw Unella and gave her a smile. Unella looked disturbed and didn't return the smile. "I am here with my husband. Gregor isn't dead...he lived with just a few side effects. I heard you say about your son...he fell too? And walks now? Does he...have black eyes or gray skin?"

Cat saw the desperation and fear on Unella's face and her heart plunged into icy depths at hearing the description. "Yes..yes Bran has those things. And..he is different, when he talks, the way he acts." A hurried nod but then the door to Qyburn's office opened and Unella looked up at her husband as if Cat didn't exist. Gregor looked at Cat then gave Unella a look that made Cat want to back away. "Is this another of your new friends, Unella?" The woman was quick to react with a shake of her head, jumping up fast. "No. I just said hello back to be polite to Mrs. Stark. And I was hearing her talk about her son's amazing recovery. I was congratulating her on it." Gregor nodded but gave Cat a glare that did nearly make her stagger back. His eyes, his skin, just like Bran.

The doctor came out and gave both ladies a kindly smile. "Ah, Unella, you may head inside, Gregor will show you where to go, what to change into for me. And Mrs. Stark, is something the matter with your son that needs my immediate attention?"


	40. Empty Inside

Unella felt like she owed her husband a huge apology. She always thought the worst thing was having Gregor use her unwilling body, now she knew different. After having Qyburn's hands and eyes on her, his hands INSIDE of her, Unella knew that this was the worst feeling in the world. She wanted to not only shower and scrub her skin but somehow clean her insides too. It felt like a violation rather than like an examination. When he was using a latex finger to scrape at her cervix, Unella was nearly in tears, it felt like he was going to autopsy her. Or maybe just give a giggle and yank her insides out.

Gregor remained in the examination room and Unella was happy for it this once. Usually if Unella needs a hospital or doctor, Gregor or Sandor will remain as close as they can. This always annoyed her as it wasn't like she would ever tell a doctor the truth of things. She and they knew this so it was unfair to not at least be allowed the privacy of a doctor. But this time, Unella was terrified he might leave her to this terrible creepy person. Qyburn gave a smile to the panicking woman and Unella snarled back. If they were in the woods, he would be the helpless scared one.

But they weren't in the woods, Unella was on her back, legs in stirrups and this man had a hold of her insides. Gregor barked with disapproval at the snarling. "Unella. Control yourself." Biting her lips, Unella shifted her look to the ceiling and stared hard at the cracks in the plaster. A sickening chuckle from the doctor and the man spoke to Gregor, dismissing his own patient. "No matter, Gregor. This is a procedure that is not only discomforting and embarrassing for a female, but makes them feel extremely helpless. Her reaction is mild compared to some women I have encountered."

"Gregor?" Her voice was too high and fluttery, causing her husband to frown at her.

His head loomed over her and he expressed a grunt of surprise when Unella's hands grabbed his, tight and fierce. "Don't leave me alone with him. Please."  She didn't add on that she planned on ripping that doctor's eyes out. Or that she was giving serious consideration to feeding said eyeballs to her fucking husband. Unella was digging her nails into the graying skin. She wished it would bleed she wanted it to and smirked when she saw some blood. Her eyes went up to those black pools glaring down at her and released his hand. Offering no apology, Unella looked back at the ceiling and thought of ways to murder her husband and this doctor.

 

Selyse has had enough, she can't do it. Nope, she had...had to draw a line in the sand and here it was. Hypocritical and weak, yes, it is true, she can admit it but so be it. It doesn't change the fact that she cannot kill her own daughter.  For years it was pounded into her head how much it was needed, how it was a good thing, a needed thing. The girl was never like her anyway, she never truly attached to Shireen, she wasn't conductive to her lifestyle. Or Stannis's for that matter. But Stannis did try harder to spend a bit of time with her. To try and create a bond and it just never really happened. That had always made Selyse dimly sad for the daughter that no one wanted.

Except now she did want her after all. Because Selyse has had a strange change in her heart or mind deep down. It was always a fact to her that someday they would kill Shireen to open the circle. But Stannis always objected to it and Selyse always got so mad over it because it was safe to be so. Now Stannis has finally fully agreed and bam. Selyse discovered she had limits after all. Her bag was packed and so was Shireen's while the girl was downstairs making breakfast. It was where Selyse had found her when she finally came to her decision. She had spent all night walking, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, wrestling with her very soul.

She had said nothing of this to the girl, best to wait until the last second and snatch her. So Selyse coldly offered a greeting, reminded the girl to fix her hair and do all her chores, please. Then went upstairs, packed and a last deep breath, opened the door. Flew to the girl's room, grabbed the packed bag and with one bag in each hand went fast for the stairs. Shireen was just coming up and Selyse tried to whisper fast. "Quickly, downstairs and out-" The sharp pain was unexpected and she saw her daughter knew the truth of things all along. "I'm done obeying orders, mother."

 

Stannis was half drunk in the small temple they built deep within their home. He spent most of the night raging at the gods, the demons, the world about why should he have to sacrifice his daughter? He would rather set fire to his wife, char broil his mistress for that matter. And yet, Stannis had to KNOW, he had to see, to attain all that his bitch/mistress/priestess/whore/prophet said would be his. So tired and the headache was setting in along with the sour familiar stomach of one not used to drinking all night. He wanted to cry, to sob, dammit, then maybe he could change his mind, claim weakness. But not a sob came, all night he tried and all that happened was more rage. And more hunger, more sly ambition that Stannis didn't want to have to face. 

He was going to do it and that was that. Stannis would face his daughter as she begged, pleaded then screamed as she burned to death. He would do it with as much respect and dignity for her as possible. That damned bitch said they couldn't drug her as it would render impure her body and spirit, it would spoil the intent of the sacrifice. So he and Selyse would have to bear the shame and guilt and allow their daughter to feel every second of the flames, to see her own parents at their very worst. It was awful and he knew that soon, someday soon, he was going to murder both his wife and mistress. But first he would burn his daughter and reap the rewards of his sacrifice.

Resolved, Stannis was ready to sleep for a few hours. They have decided upon tonight for the ritual sacrifice and he wants to be at his best. He also doesn't want to face Shireen until he had to. That was too much to ask of him, to play father at all before he must play murderer. But he swung around to stand up and there she was. Shireen stared at her frozen father and she struck him fast with the needle and he gave a slight wince. "What? What are you doing, girl? Go upstairs, get out of this room, you know better." But his words started to slur right away and Stannis saw, really saw his daughter for the first time. "You always knew. Clever girl." Shireen was beyond wanting any praise from her father and simply turned to get to work.

 

Ramsay worked with a whistle on his lips and a wolfish grin on his face. Shireen never asked what he did with the whore to grant such a good mood and he didn't offer to tell her. He gave a sweet pinch to Stannis's dour features and spoke as he moved him onto the collapsible stretcher, belting him in securely. "Don't worry, Stannis. It's a drug only meant to paralyze you. You can hear and see and feel just fine! Just can't speak or move and I hope your nose doesn't get itchy, sir!" Lightly, Ramsay began to tickle Stannis's nose and giggle. "I did offer a sedative to Shireen but she said she would rather you were both awake for the whole thing. After all, that is how it would have been for your daughter, right? I mean, no offense to an elder and shit but, that's fucking cold. My dad and I don't get along too well but even that was beyond him."

He pulled Stannis's head to the side so he could see his wife on another stretcher. "See? Same as you, she is aware, just real silent and still. Your daughter is busy setting some things up. But we are about to head into your sacrifice room in just a minute so you can have a last family bonding moment. Or is it bonfire moment? Either way...even though I have taught your little girl all about murder, there are somethings she is still too young for. So I gave revenge for her in a certain way that isn't for her delicate young ears or eyes. Your whore won't be joining you tonight. I have taken care of her for Shireen. I sodomized the red headed whore, Stannis, I cut her, flayed her, pissed on the exposed skin, dug out her internal organs and jerked off into their steaming heat. What's wrong, Stannis? You look like something...oh well...let's go."

Shireen and Ramsay were sweating and gasping for air by the time they were done. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Ramsay examined the two limp but staring sacrifices staring at them from their sacrificial human sized barbecue pit. They had set it up the exact way that the instructions had shown. The papers had been just sitting out with the pieces to have been constructed by Stannis during the day. "All set and all yours. Now give me my brother's bones." Shireen showed him where the metal chest was with Domeric's charred remains encased in it. Ramsay opened it and talked for a minute, gloating to his brother as the girl went back to her parents. She thought about giving a heartfelt speech to them or even railing at them, finally telling them what she always felt and thought.

But shrugging, Shireen said to them both, "You aren't worth my words. It wasn't me, it was you." She lit a match and watched it drop then watched the flames begin. Her eyes reflected them and only a single tensing of her facial muscles when her parents began to burn.

 

Qyburn and Gregor both left for her to dress then the doctor came back only briefly, popping his head into the door. "Fret not, dear lady. You are still sterile. You are going through a different kind of change. Menopause doesn't just start one day, it can start to give symptoms up to ten years early. So, you will start to take some hormones, some vitamins and I shall set you up a check up in a few months. Gregor will be right in to take you home. You can wait in the lounge if you'd rather." Unella waited until the door shut before she breathed a ragged sob out. The relief filled her.

Unella finished dressing and left the examination room quickly. She went to sit down to wait for Gregor then went out the door instead. Without much thought, Unella headed towards the ward where Bran was being cared for. It was time to finish that talk she started with Cat.


	41. Juggling Hats

Life must go on, leaves will continue to fall, the air continues to freeze then fry then chill again.

And regardless of Petyr's feelings for Cat or any other personal needs, he has a city to run. Well, Varys took on half of the workload of course, the man was in a snit, jealousy can do that and Petyr was sure it was jealousy. Varys can't really bitch, he at least had time to see to his own personal needs. As if Petyr didn't notice the ice cream buckets in Vary's kitchen freezer when he stopped by to borrow some vodka. Petyr had to wear so many different hats now with the usual runners all dead, missing or grieving.

First he had to run to the high school and throw on his principal act. Juggling papers, student programs, teacher scheduling and budget reviews. Then Petyr was nearly attacked by a counselor about problematic or worrisome students. Narrowing his eyes at the records of certain students, Petyr said he would look into it. Which meant it was time to switch from his principal act to one of his old favorites.

Child welfare, a social worker and child therapist was his first love of the professional work with brats. And it was one he always kept his fingers in, now with Gilly gone furry, Petyr must wear the hat of social worker again. He finds that very inconvenient but it cannot be changed and truth be told, he always enjoyed it.

Petyr and Varys had met with Roose briefly in between their school duties. They understood who the werewolves were, they understood who were the hunters and that they should stay the fuck out of it. Varys frowned in pity over hearing Lommy has been tormented, turned into another furry beast. Petyr pretended sadness over the boy and the loss of the officer. He was more interested in hearing Hot Pie and Arya were involved against this gang. Oh yes, that information he found very interesting. So did Varys but probably not for the same reasons. Roose leaned over the table to stare intently at Varys and Petyr.

"The clowns are returning, I assume? Because I have heard several reports now of Shitmouth the clown. That is a particular clown name I haven't heard in a very long time. Last time it was Whisper the clown, wasn't it? I gave my son a call this morning and guess what he told me. He said that he met someone who has seen Shitmouth just seconds before my son got there. I am very glad that my son didn't see this clown." Varys gave a prissy moue of his lips and Petyr gave a disapproving shake of his head.

"This town has traditions, rituals and strange events that happen every fall. So many times we have seen the leaders try to fight it, try to change it and they die for their efforts or go crazy in the end. Why should we not just allow these things to take their course. It always ends well for us in the end, Roose, you know that. The clowns have their targets, the job they do is important, you know that. We have no right to stop whatever happens. The clowns...the first one at least...the kids always like the damned things, drawn to them, I guess. But only rotten ones would listen to a clown, would act the way they do. Only those who deserve what happens...."

They spoke of other matters, more important ones concerning the city, concerning media, social needs and did not mention clowns or werewolves again.

 

Petyr flew off and now he was wearing his social worker face as he rang Alyn's doorbell. When the young man opened the door, Petyr gave a thin smile. "Hello. I am looking for Hot Pie. He didn't come to school today and I have heard from his uncle that he is currently homeless. As the director of child services, I came right away." As Petyr was reluctantly allowed inside, several firetrucks went screaming by. A fire could be seen billowing in the distance, in the direction of the upper crust cul de sac. He hoped it wasn't anyone he knew or liked. But he had to focus on his task, let another worry about a fire.

Alyn and Sam offered to foster Hot Pie, the boy himself begged for it. Petyr gave them all a pitying look then he addressed them slowly as if he felt terrible about the decisions he must make. "Well, I will tell you, this does look like a sound and good solution for the boy. I remember both of you in school, Sam was the scholar and Alyn was our unwilling honors student that tried to get in trouble for status. Both of you have turned out so well and Sam, might I offer condolences on your missing wife. But, gentlemen, I am afraid due to Hot Pie's own actions, he cannot stay here. I have heard disturbing reports of this young lad being involved in some gang activity and is actually in need of safety, more than you could provide perhaps. We would not wish to put your child in danger, Sam."

Petyr enjoyed watching Sam's face fall and Hot Pie's turn slowly to terror. "I am sorry, but Hot Pie will have to come with me. I promise you that I shall find him a proper and good foster home. And until that safe and secure foster home can be found, we have a wonderful town facility as you both know. Hot Pie would be safe there." It took all he had not to laugh as all three burst out loudly with protests. Brushing all of the verbal assault aside, Petyr took hold of the chubby arm and firmly said it was time to leave. As he shoved the frozen boy into the backseat and told him to buckle up, Petyr got a text from Varys, another from Roose. The Baratheon home has burnt down, the only survivor was little Shireen. Looks like Petyr has another child to retrieve and bring to his safe haven.

"Don't worry, Hot Pie. You won't be alone, it looks like you'll have a new friend right off the bat. Shireen Baratheon is a bit younger than you but I am sure you'll get along fine. She just lost her family to a fire and is in need of a home just like you. Of course, I doubt that a drug dealing lunatic burnt her home down, unlike with your poor uncle's gym.  We have much to discuss later, don't we, son? You and Arya both have much to talk about with me, I would think. Yes, it is no secret that I am best friends with Arya's mother. Now that her mother is weighed down with such grief, I will assist with Arya. And now I see just how much help is truly needed. Let's go get that little girl and comfort her. Then you, myself and Arya will have a real heart to heart so I can begin to help you and Arya before you both end up dead like your friends."

 

Unella had marched her way to the overwhelmed mother and hoped she wasn't making things worse. Bran was in his room, walking back and forth. Arya and Rickon were sitting in chairs, watching Unella with mild interest. Cat was checking her texts, it was sad that she and the children were in the hall rather than with Bran. But he seemed to prefer his own company. She had looked up when Unella came steamrolling up to her and then just listened in shock.

"Mrs. Stark, I have very little time to speak with you. There is a blue desk at the public library. I often sit there to read in the early evening on Tuesdays. There is a small crack in the desk where one can leave notes. I would like to plan a time to meet, to talk. All I can say for now is watch for lack of emotion, quick temper and...Gregor prefers meat more than pasta or vegetables. He has much more strength than before. Your son might develop that or something else, he was very smart, wasn't he? He might become a genius. Please, send me a note but don't ever come to my home or act as if we are friends. Gregor doesn't like my attention elsewhere. He is going to storm in any moment, angry that I have left. Please, we can't let him know what we are discussing. We must tell him that...that I received a message from you. About landscaping, anything else. I know you have questions and I want to help you any way I can but I must keep this secret from my husband, it would put both you and I in danger if he knows I am talking to you like this."

Cat blinked but before she could say more, Gregor came storming through the hallway doors as predicted. Maybe it was years of being the wife of a politician, years of being a socialite or years of being the sole counsel for her children whether they were guilty or innocent, but Cat snapped smoothly into the deception. Then played it to her own advantage. "Ah, Gregor, there you are! I hope you don't mind but I asked Unella to come up here. I had hoped the receptionist remembered to tell you, I wished to have you come up here as well. It seems you and my son have had a similar traumatic experience and the same miraculous doctor. I just felt that it would be right for you and Bran to meet. I was hoping for pictures of the two of you together, but Unella convinced me it was too invasive."

Gregor's face went from anger to confusion to plain disgusted and his words barely hinged on politeness. "No, I wasn't given any message. I just went all over the place looking for my wife. I don't want any pictures taken. Your son doesn't need to meet me, he is in good hands with Dr. Qyburn." Then a slender grayish boy with black eyes walked with awkward legs to the doorway of his room. "Here I am and now I have met Gregor. I already knew him, mother. He is the landscaper of our home, most of the town, in fact. So Gregor, any symptoms, advice, suggestions?" Bran's voice was a mix of dark sarcasm and some flat emotion that expressed nothing and yet felt full of something. Everyone but Gregor reacted to that voice with a small flinch, twitch or cringe. Unella didn't flinch as much because she was used to hearing this new tone from her husband. 

Bran smirked as Gregor strode forward to lean over the boy in a way that wasn't menacing but somehow worse. Everyone in the room was tensed up, Cat was ready to attack this man if he so much as touched her son. "Watch your temper and beware new sudden urges. Oh, most important of all, Bran," Gregor straightened up to cast a disparaging eye at all of them, mostly Unella. "Don't let anyone tell you that you are dead!"

 

 After an awkward silence while watching Gregor drag Unella off, Bran finally sighed and turned to face his mother with those black eyes. "Mother, please go home and rest. You look ready to drop. And it can't be healthy for Arya and Rickon to sit here. I will be home in time for the services, Qyburn assured me of it, he says I am healing at an accelerating level. Don't you have to plan for those services, mother? You should go rest and then plan them out and I will be home soon."

Cat gave her son's strange flesh a kiss on that graying forehead. It was cold to the touch and Bran didn't respond except to gently push her back. The kids didn't try to hug or kiss their brother but they did say goodbye cheerily enough. None of them said a word on the ride home about Bran or Sansa. Rickon and Arya exchanged looks that said volumes. Cat's tense silence said even more.

They went home and Cat mumbled about starting dinner then she grabbed a take out menu pinned to the wall and tossed it to the kids. "Here, just pick and order something, alright? I...I need to take a small nap. Petyr is setting up the services and he will come by later to discuss them with me. I need a nap and a shower first."  The kids nodded and looked at the menu while Cat staggered upstairs. She took off her clothes except her underwear, crawled under her bed covers and cried herself to sleep.

Two pepperoni pizzas came along with a bottle of soda, cheesy fries and mozzarella sticks. Arya and Rickon took some comfort in the greasy salty food as well as a classic stalker horror movie to watch while eating. They were starting to feel better, starting to feel ready to speak with each other about dark things when the doorbell rang. Scrambling to the door, Rickon let Petyr inside the house while Cat sat up in bed, startled by the doorbell. "My mom is resting then gonna shower. She said she will be down after that. Want some pizza while you wait? We are having an early supper tonight."

Petyr smiled and thanked Rickon. He ate two slices of the pizza and enjoyed it thoroughly. He enjoyed seeing Cat come down a bit later, looking refreshed even more. Mostly Petyr enjoyed the look on Arya's face when he began to speak to Cat about what her daughter and best friend have been up to.

 


	42. Full Truth, Half Truth, Just Don't Lie

Arya was speechless and defenseless as Petyr's smooth voice led Cat where he wanted her to go.

"Dearest, you need to understand that Arya, Hot Pie and those other two poor boys aren't in a small war with other teenagers. It isn't even like when they all had that scrape with Ramsay Bolton and his friends. I know that Arya promised she and her friends would tame things after that. But the truth is, they became a small gang of their own, even in school I was receiving reports. Both Lommy and Gendry had some very serious issues and I am afraid that their influence had much to do with both Arya and Hot Pie's worst impulse decisions. This Polliver, the man Tickler that goes around with him, they tortured and murdered Lommy in a terrible way. It was slow and worse than you can imagine. Hot Pie has the word Piggy carved deep into his stomach, Cat, then Polliver burnt down his uncle's gym. And you saw the condition of both the children after the water tower. Polliver and Tickler were battling with the kids when the supposed wolf attack happened. However, I will tell you that Roose has a very different take of things. Even though Damon, Alyn and Sam are keeping quiet, the truth of the matter might be no wolves at all. That Damon and the other two men came upon the group as Polliver and Tickler were killing Gendry with the intent of doing the same to the rest of the kids. Lommy's leg was torn up but we cannot be sure it was by an animal."

Cat paced, sobbed, raged, lectured and condemned all in one pure storm cloud of emotion. Arya didn't move, didn't speak and neither did Petyr. Rickon stayed hidden on the staircase, holding his breath. This will be great gossip for his friends to discuss with him later but part of Rickon was also worried for Arya. Worried that the situation she is in might really be as bad as Petyr says. Worried about if his mother will lock Arya in her room until she turns eighteen. Or maybe tie her up in the basement, judging by how upset his mother sounded.

Slamming her hands down hard on the table in front of Arya's face, Cat forced the girl to see her. "I want the truth now. Not your best friend's version of things, not Petyr's version. I want yours, the real one not the bullshit one, kiddo. LOOK AT MY EYES! DO I SEEM LIKE I AM FUCKING AROUND WITH YOU?" Petyr blinked, Arya gasped and Rickon swallowed his gum in shock. "I am NOT losing another child! Do you hear me? Now, the truth. Were you fighting with these men? Did they attack you? Were you raped? How did Gendry die? The truth, Arya. Start talking."

Arya was stone. She was steel. She was a wall that crumbled like a damned tsunami fell over her like a crash and it turns out she was just a freaking child after all. Tears fell and her voice was a terrible mix of pain and rage, of loss and shame and frustration. "YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW, MOTHER? It's not like you'll actually hear me or listen to anything but the parts you want to hear!" Cat grabbed her own hair and yanked at it, nearly out of her mind with this child that has horrible secrets ripping her apart, ripping Cat apart to know something bad has happened. "Yes! Yes! Tell me and I want to hear you! Say something, make it the damned truth!"

"Fine. Yes. At the fair we ended up in a fight with Polliver and Tickler. We tangled with them physically the first time in the fun house. We didn't let it go, we slashed their tires and scratched up Polliver's car. They showed up at the water tower and attacked us. So did a guy dressed like a clown, he called himself Shitmouth the Clown." Cat's eyes narrowed then.

"I know that clown. Bran saw him downtown on his last doctor visit. Go on." Arya cleared her throat and stared straight at her mother, knowing this was the end of her mother's understanding. "Polliver had taken Hot Pie, he was carving into him with the knife and Lommy pulled a gun on Tickler. Gendry and I were facing off the clown who was armed with like, a cleaver or something like it. Then Polliver came for us and this huge wolf came flying into us all. Lommy and the clown ran away towards the ravine with the wolf chasing them. Polliver and Tickler shot at the wolf just as it bit Lommy and it ran off, howling. We all grabbed Lommy and headed for the shack just as the wolf came back with two more. We got inside but Gendry didn't make it, the wolves dragged him off."

Cat opened her mouth but Arya cut her off. "Yeah, I know you don't believe me but you want the full truth, well, this is my full truth. You promised to hear it, so just listen! The wolves were loud and scratching at the walls, the roof above us and it was driving Tickler crazy. He started saying they should toss Lommy to the wolves since he was already bitten. I ended up in a fight with Tickler...I lost the fight." Arya swallowed hard and raised her chin high as her next few words came out hard as ice and painful like walking barefoot on jagged rocks.

"He beat me. He raped me. In front of all of them, he raped me. There it is, mother. After that I saw Lommy and Hot Pie fighting with Polliver. I saw Polliver strangling Hot Pie and Lommy trying to stop him. Then Damon hollered and Polliver and Tickler threatened us all to be silent. We were and we are not making any official reports against them. We didn't know they would do that to Lommy, we didn't know that they would really burn down the gym. And mother, when I say wolves, I mean werewolves and one of them was my older sister. Sansa's not missing, she's in the woods with her pack."

Cat staggered back like Arya had slapped her and then she started to give a small brittle laugh. "Werewolves, of course. The clown and the wolves and yes, your sister is a werewolf. Okay. You know what? Fuck it. Yeah, let's pretend that three ring circus happened. Sure. I want to talk about the non wolf parts, okay? You were raped. Arya, honey...you need to see a doctor, a counselor, a therapist! And your friend, he needs help too. And both of you have to tell Roose about these things and anything else you might know! We need to get these dangerous men off the streets before they do worse to you or anyone else. Do you understand the magnitude of what they did to Lommy? Arya, wake up and hear me!"

Arya stood up and did something she has never done in her entire life. She advanced towards her mother, her voice a roar and her eyes blazing. "Wake up, mother? No, its YOU that needs to wake up and look around you! Telling Roose will change nothing for me, for Hot Pie. It won't change anything for Lommy, will it? Justice won't come through legal channels for anyone but you and the other adults who want to gloss everything over nice, neat and pretty! I won't see anyone, I am taking care of myself and it's MY BODY! I will control what happens to it! And its my mind, you have no right to any of it. No one does but me!"

Cat threw herself at her daughter and forced the angry girl into a tight harsh hug. "It's your body and mind. Yes. But you are my daughter and I have a right, a responsibility to keep you as safe as I can. So far it seems I've been doing a piss poor job of that and it is changing right now. I love you, I love you so much and I am so very sorry for what happened to you and to your friends." Releasing Arya, Cat stepped back and her tone changed, it became hard, resolute and way too much like Ned for Arya's comfort.

"You will see the doctor and you will attend therapy. Home schooling if need be and you will only leave this house with an adult. You don't have to report anything further to the police if you don't want to. I won't push it. But consider yourself on permanent house arrest. And if you persist with the tales of wolves, I can add a psychiatrist to the list." Arya began to instantly protest such harsh and unfair treatment but Petyr stood up and slid in front of her, blocking her mother from her. Petyr took Cat's shaking hands in his own. "Now Cat, perhaps you are being a bit over the top. I personally cannot believe you would rather Arya be home-schooled. I assure you that she is never safer than in my school. You know that. Listen, send the girl to her room and let us chat. I have an idea that you might want to hear."

 

Arya sat with Rickon on the staircase, listening intently. She was dazed and confused right along with Rickon.  It was dizzying to hear how Petyr worked, the enemy one minute, the hero the next.

"Now, Cat...think this through. Arya was traumatized and even though it reels you, think it through. Forcing the girl into a doctor's office, into invasion of privacy, she has just suffered a terrible invasion already. Putting her through more will only alienate her from you. And with so much healing to be done for this family, do you truly want her wandering the house, an angry prisoner? Maybe speaking of wolves helps her process what happened, Cat. Maybe you should let well enough alone. She will talk to you someday when she is ready. Right now she is a ball of anger and hurt. The last thing you want to do is make her feel even more helpless. Let's empower her instead. Keeping with discipline through some hard labor and dealing with her feelings through some creative art."

 

And that is how Arya ended up next to Hot Pie and Shireen nailing boards, painting, sweating while moving heavy props. The three of them go to school then Petyr personally drives them to the community haunted house. It was up to the three of them to construct it, create Petyr and Varys's vision.

 


	43. Box of Bones

Roose stared first at the chest full of his eldest son's remains. It was a bittersweet relief to have an ending, a clear answer, a closure and yet on the other hand....

"How could you? It was my right to kill those murderers of my son! And you taught a little girl how to kill, how to burn down a house then helped her. Mentored a child into murder. Now I have a cold comfort but no justice, Ramsay! You have denied me that right in your selfish quest to always be first! You raced a dead brother for years and you dump his remains before me with a grin, like you finally won the big contest! How do I bury him publicly now, Ramsay? I must still create a way to have found his remains and suffer his bones in my closet until that day! And if that girl ever talks? If she ever decides she likes a taste of what you taught her and decides to kill again? Do you ever think of anyone beyond yourself?"

Ramsay flushed and angrily muttered, "She offered to help me find my Reek. And they were going to burn her alive, father! Should I have ignored that too? Should I be that cold of a monster? You confuse me, I don't get what you want from me, truly. I mean, if I ignored her pleas, she would have died. After she started to tell me where Domeric was, should I have shrugged and walked away? I took the opportunity I had before me and used it. Here is your favorite son, not sure how much more I can do for you."

Roose shook his head in disgust and nodded for his silent officer take the box out to the car. Locke was far more hot tempered than Raff but he was loyal and had a great sense of humor.

After the door shut behind the officer, Ramsay gave his father another shock. "I have petitioned Petyr Baelish for Shireen Baratheon. I want to foster her and I qualify in every way, already checked." Very softly, Roose asked, "Have you lost your mind? Are you insane, should I put you away for your own good? I know what you did with Theon Greyjoy, we all know if he did run away he had very good reason to. What do you think the reaction in town would be if your new Reek was a young schoolgirl? Hmm? Do you think I would have any choice then in what happens to you? A good lawyer and we can put you in a mental hospital for a few years. Is that what you want for your life, Ramsay?"

Snarling, Ramsay clenched his fists and tried so hard to make his fucking idiot father hear him. "You always assume things! It's not like that at all! What Reek and I had was special, it was a relationship, father! I loved him, I still love him! But Shireen needs a mentor, she needs someone like herself, like me! She is just like me, father, as if she were my own little sister! That is how I feel about her and I need her to help me find Theon! I will finally have a sibling I can love and who looks up to me and I'll have Reek back as my pet. Don't you see how-" The blow came fast and hard, Ramsay tasting the steel on his father's ring in his mouth, chipping a tooth on it's way through. Ramsay fell back onto the couch and held his bleeding mouth, staring up at his father.

Roose wiped the blood from his fist upon Ramsay's couch and was the epitome of chilling calmness. His voice was calm and measured as he leaned over Ramsay, making his son cringe a little. But Roose's eyes were upon the small decorative mirror above the couch, smoothing back his hair as he talked.

"Now, let me tell you what you will do. You will end this obsession with collecting people. Leave Shireen alone, forget Theon, I am almost positive that he was murdered by the wolves. Move onward, son. Or I am going to become concerned about these obsessions and commit you myself. Go back to work, spend time with your dogs and as soon as I can arrange it, you and I will have a special hunt of our own. Just like the old days. This time I will let you pick your own prey and I'll get mine...you can bring your dogs and have a chance to use that crossbow I gave you. I must get back to work, son. I'm glad we had this heart to heart talk. Thank you for bringing me your brother's remains."

 

He raged, he sobbed and his dogs howled outside in their pen as if they empathized with their Master's emotions. They probably did and the only reason I penned them was for my damned father. He hates the fur, the slobber, and I always must let father have his fucking way. Ramsay calmed himself and grabbed a bottle of wine from his counter. Slamming it back on the counter, Ramsay opened his fridge and grabbed a beer. He snorted a little cocaine he bought the other day from Polliver and tried to set his place to rights.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! Roose had no say in Ramsay's life, he can foster a girl if he wants and search for his pet all he wants! Except Ramsay worried that his father would go through with his threat of committing him. I should leave this fucking town for good, is what I should do! Take the girls, grab my shit and go! But I can't leave without Reek, even if it's only knowing what happened to him. And Ramsay decided he was going to find Theon, kidnap Shireen, take his dogs and blow town as soon as he can. With that shining resolution and goal ahead of him, he felt better, much better.

He got the dogs and walked along the wharf where he had originally met the clever killer girl. The fog encased them as if it was hungry for their friendship and Ramsay smiled into it. Then his hand was on fire, the rough stitching from the leashes has torn across his skin and was gone. The dogs were yelping, whining, barking and then he heard them fade away into the white rolling mists. Calling them did no good and Ramsay cursed. What the hell could they have found to spook them so much? He heard his dogs once again, louder then going toward the direction they had come.

Damn it, whatever scared them has sent them home. Well, at least they are trained enough to not run off and get lost, they are going to head into their pens. "Cowards. Did a large crab pinch one of you ladies?" Ramsay hated how the fog seemed to send his voice into a echoing, haunting fade off.

A quick shudder and then Ramsay decided enough of his foolishness, time to head home. Feed and water the dogs, let them sleep inside tonight since they were so scared of whatever it was. He started to head in the same directions his ladies had run, walking carefully but at a good clip. The growl was deep and threatening, making Ramsay freeze. Werewolves? Why would they be on the wharf and not the damned woods? Ramsay tilted his head and listened, trying to judge through the damned mist where it was. It was circling him now, but Ramsay had no sight in the mist and his perception of everything was off.

Ramsay had no real choices, he started to walk forward again, sliding his knife out of his belt slowly. He cursed himself for leaving his gun at home. But he thought it would be better not to carry his gun while high on cocaine. Stupid, stupid stupid! Startled, Ramsay stopped again when he briefly got a glimpse of it directly in front of him. Too fast to react, just to notice a gleaming thick silver coat, the gleam of one blue eye. Something in that eye made Ramsay start to cry, his heart hurt and Ramsay just fucking knew.

"Pet? What did your sister do to you, sweet boy? I still love you, honey. I don't care, we can work through this, love. Please, you have no idea how crazy I've been trying to find you! Come to your Master, Reek. It's okay, it doesn't matter that you are a werewolf, I can protect you, care for you, come here, sweetie." Ramsay knelt down and put the knife away, holding out his arms. His smile was too wide, eyes too bulging but Ramsay loved his Reek and he had to trust that Reek loved Ramsay. A snarling, hunched silver beast appeared from the fog. It slunk forward, claws making scratching sounds upon the sandy boardwalk.

Ramsay shut his eyes as the wolf lunged forth, teeth gnashing in his face. Then he felt a warm tongue licking at his tears. With a relieved laugh, Ramsay warmly hugged the large furry pet. "I knew you loved me too, Reek." He didn't understand when the snout burrowed into his neck and began to chew, to rend and rip. Ramsay tried to scream his pet's name but there was so blood and he just made rattling sounds. He was looking up into the mist, laying down, his lover was drinking, lapping up his blood as he died. Ramsay saw Euron Greyjoy step out from the mists and he tried to raise a hand, a plea for help that would be too late anyhow. Then Ramsay saw nothing, his last thought was wishing for his father.

 

Euron was politely and patiently waiting and eventually, his nephew padded over to him, whining softly, his snout covered in blood. Crouching down low, Euron gave the wolf a gentle pat and chuckled. "There. Now you are done with your past, aren't you? Everyone is dead and it's time to move on. I am still upset that you didn't change until just before I almost turned you. However, you are my nephew and you are submissive to me. We shall go together and find someone worthy to take your place as my heir. And it's always fun to shake up werewolves when they see you, my lovely fierce pet. Let's go, Theon."

The wolf padded into the mists with the vampire, not sparing a glance back at the town he no longer has a need for. He might belong to his uncle but at least Theon felt it was his choice to do so. The ship felt freer than the entire town had and the wolf threw back his head to howl contentedly at the moon.


	44. No More Fake Cheese

It took some time, it took the willpower and strength and sneakiness that Olenna has relied on all her life. No one got more pleasure out of watching feminism then she did. Most didn't understand how she reacted, they thought she was mocking the defense of her very own sex. Olenna tried hard to at least get her granddaughter to understand it. For the most part, Olenna thinks the girl might have at least sucked enough in that someday when she needs it, it will be there already in her head. That it was great to have a group of women be able to stomp something out, but one woman stomping out a group of men, oh, what a thrill!

Olenna spent her entire life silently dominating a male world and she had tried to teach her granddaughter to do the same. In fact, truth be told, most of the patriarchy of this town was created by women. But the world has continued to go on and to change, leaving this town behind. She and the others watch from the televisions at the advances women make. Most of the women cheer and smile at their daughters, but some like Olenna begin to crack the jokes and piss the younger ones off. The other thing is, as Olenna gets older, things begin to scare her. Too much change out there and even here in the town, Olenna feels too old and slow for some of it anymore.

Small things had been escaping her, like her damned traitorous body or her forgetful mind. In small increments, Olenna had been allowing the grandchildren to take over her world, they took over her newspaper, took over her radio and television station. Olenna showed to some meetings, to some charity functions and such but that was all. And it all ended the day she shot poor Jeyne Poole in her bushes. From the moment she pulled the trigger, Olenna had gone into a sort of white space in her head. The pills that quack upstart Qyburn gave the kids to give her didn't help at all. Then she just slept, woke to find herself being nearly spoon fed by her own maid and her rage was epic.

However, before she could do more than scare the maid half to death, her grandson shoved more of those pills down her throat. It was days before Olenna was able to remain clear enough to start hiding the pills. Keep them in her cheek, pocketed until the room was empty then slip them into a slit in the mattress. The hardest part was pretending to be drugged enough to recover fully.

Hearing her grandchildren discuss nursing homes and about dividing up her things! It didn't mollify her much to hear the kids crying over her while they discussed it! Hearing her own loyal servants calling her "the old cow" as they argued over who would change her diaper. One day, the day before Olenna decided she felt well enough to rise, she heard someone slip into her room.

A sniff then mumbled words over her and she dared a quick peek. It was that damned brat who delivered her newspapers in the morning. What was his name? Olly or Owen or some such thing. "I heard you shot someone then felt so bad that it made you sick. You never gave me tips, instead you told me how to make more money, how to double my tips within a month. You were right, it worked just like you said it would. You are mean and smart, I hope you get well and not die." The boy left and Olenna decided she was leaving everything to that kid in her new and improved will.

 

Margeary ran into Loras's office, flustered and shocked. "Loras! I just got a text from the aide, grandmother is up! She is ordering the house staff to make her a small luncheon, using her cane and refusing to allow them to even help her bathe! Hurry, before she breaks her neck or...or...I don't know!" They took Loras's car as the elegant brunette waved her hands around, every possible thing in her brain bouncing like a maddened hamster. 

When they ran inside, the butler pointed towards the dining room on the second floor. "I'm wearing my good heels, I'm using her elevator, not running up the damned stairs. At least she had the mind to not try to use the stairs herself! She always hated the chairs and the elevator." Loras rolled his eyes and shoved his sister into the ornate cage and pressed the button. "Stop babbling, grandmother hates it when you do that. Keep the thoughts behind your face, would you? Let's see how grandmother is doing, shall we?" 

Loras wondered if the woman grew a tolerance to those damned pills. He thinks a call to Dr. Qyburn about upping the dosage might be a good idea. Margeary will pretend to protest it of course, but he knew her charade as well as his own. The dining room doors were half open and they heard that sharp cultured voice snapping for the cheese to be put upon the table. An age old argument between the old lady and the apathetic male they hired as her aide last year. She never understood what the Dusten's position to her was. Therefore, she would order him to do anything and everything she thought of.

"Mrs. Tyrell, I am not your waiter. You want more cheese, wait until your maid or butler come in. Besides, you have some right over there. Eat that with some fruits." His face was a handsome resting bitch face and his voice was as apathetic as always. Olenna cheered to it and responded, "David, that is not cheese! I told the staff before not to buy the fake stuff, but clearly as soon as the cat is away the mice will play. I am not eating plastic swill, I want real cheese. If we can afford real fruit then we can afford real cheese." Olenna ignored the man's long suffering sigh of that isn't his name, to see her grandchildren enter the room to the familiar argument.

"Ah, Loras, Margeary, dears! Please inform Douglas that we can afford to buy real cheese! Unless you have both already spent my fortune on the nursing home you intend to put me in." The twins paused at that then regained composure, looking down at the small table covered in untouched food and drink. "My, what a spread you have here, grandmother. I suppose you must be starving for some real food, eh? Here, let me help you set a plate." While Loras began to put small bits of everything upon three plates, Margeary ran to hug her grandmother.

Olenna accepted the kiss and hug then gently shoved the girl away. "Sit down. You must have been busy at work, knowing the two of you, probably would've worked through your lunch hours. Unless you had lunch meetings today. Then Loras would have gone to the little motel near the edge of town to meet with one of his secret lovers. And Margeary would have gotten drunk with some sales shmucks that are taking over small pieces of everything I built at bargain rates. But you both were in the office still, so you must be famished. Loras, don't put that fake cheese on my plate. Just the finger sandwiches, cookie, biscuit and sliver of cake if you please. Dudley, I swear if you don't get me the right cheese I'm going to make you regret it to your last dying breath. See if I don't."

"Not a waiter and not my name." He sung lightly and softly as he went to sit in a chair over in a corner to give the family their privacy.

 

Loras and Margeary nibbled at their plates of foods they despised. The old fashioned spread was just depressing to them and unappetizing. Olenna was enjoying it, regardless of her missing cheese. She ate with more gusto than they have seen in some time and both shared a quick glance with each other. The woman had truly regained herself and even a higher dosage of sedatives might not work without it seeming like forceful drugging of an elderly person. Not that most around here would care but Olenna has taught them caution, that things can always come back to bite you in the ass when least expected.

"You drugged me. You were putting payments down on a damned nursing home on me. Selling off my life's work before I was in the ground and couldn't care about it. You overplayed your hand, children. I am displeased with both of you. Don't bother babbling any defenses or tears, granddaughter. I am not falling for any of it. You will both submit any activities done to my businesses since I have been ill to my lawyer by the end of the day. We shall wait for his replies before we have anymore discussion of business."

Olenna seemed to gain deeper volumes in her voice as her anger grew. She grabbed a cucumber finger sandwich and nearly crammed it into her mouth before continuing. A gulp of tea as if it were gin and then Olenna spoke as her fingers crawled spider-like to snatch up a jelly cookie.

"I am sure we will have plenty to discuss on that subject later. Oh yes. Now, I am not truly angry that you have both attempted a take over. I am rather proud, knowing it is just the natural course of a student trying to surpass the teacher. It was the way you did it. To leave me laying in a bed, stinking of my own fluids, spoonfuls of gloop shoved into a slack mouth that drools blended foods! I would rather you had poisoned me and had done with it! Smother me in bed with my pillow, drown me in a tub of water, both would give me more dignity!"

Loras became concerned at how his grandmother was flushing in her face. "Grandmother, please calm down. I swear that we were only concerned for your health and for the good of your businesses. Perhaps we should let the doctor take a good look at you?" Margeary noticed how the time in bed without as much care has caused terrible sproutings of hair all over Olenna's hands and face. Long stray hairs quivered from the old saggy chin and the girl felt a bolt of shame for letting her grandmother suffer that indignity.

"Grandmother, you are right. I am sorry, I should have taken better care of you myself. Or hired those who could. But that is what that nursing home does! They would see to your every whim, grandmother!" Olenna gave a very undignified snort and swigged down more tea then poured herself another cup of the amber liquid from the small silver pot that had just been refilled moments ago. The steam lifted off the liquid in the small porcelain cup and Dusten had looked over, eyes widening in shock. Both twins yelled out in alarm as Olenna began to swig large swallows of the burning hot tea.

All three of them were on their feet, horrified but Olenna seemed unaffected by what had to be internal scalding. The twins and Dusten began to come closer, hurrying to assist what had to be a dreadful medical emergency. Olenna stopped swallowing and bit into the cup, blood spilling as she contentedly chewed and the shards were grinding against her teeth in a ear hurting sound. Margeary screeched, clapping her hands to her face while Loras and Dusten ran to somehow stop the old woman. Then Loras was pulling back a bloody stump where his hand was and Margeary was holding him, not understanding what was happening.

Dusten fell back after a powerful swoop from an old lady's hand that somehow has become a bestial furry knuckled thing with long yellow claws. He tried twice to stand but his ears were ringing and the concussion was wrapping around his damaged brain. The old woman was changing now, she was ancient, battle scarred, broken teeth but still sharp and those claws were clicking, scratching. She jumped onto the table, destroying her own china, turning to face the twins. Loras and Margeary are running but it's too late already.

He heard the beast get them in the hallway, he heard Loras scream and then fade away into a gurgle. Terrible sounds of eating and Dusten wondered if the girl at least got away to get help. As he finally climbed the wall and found his feet, the huge old werewolf padded back into the room, heading straight for him. And Dusten found that the old bitch was going to keep her word and make him regret about that fucking cheese to his dying breath.


	45. Apple Cider

Fall was relentless, it's burst of orange, yellow, red and brown kept coming down, tall thin branches reaching out with skeletal hands.

Pumpkins were being carved, haystacks set for mazes, hayride wagons prepared, tour guides wearing their long trench coats and carrying grave digger shovels, lanterns shined and lit, practiced their scripts. The library was full of storytellers and circles of children, some which will leave with nightmares, others with new fantasy ideas in their tiny heads. Teachers having children set up spooky decorations and give essays on costumes. A group of students dedicating their time and energy to create an amazing community haunted house.

The town square park was showing goofy horror movies every night on a large white screen that took over the entire garden and stage areas.  Families bring picnic suppers, vendors bring sparklers, balloons and hot apple cider, pumpkin muffins, apple cider donuts and of course pumpkin spice latte. Children play on the playground, lit by orange lights, close enough for the parents to see them. It's a happy town celebrating a simple holiday.

 

And other smaller but very big things happened in town.

So many somber services privately attended for prominent families now fallen.

The details of the Tyrell slaughter was kept very quiet and any details that were correct were dubbed as fiction. Loras Tyrell, the maid, the butler and the unfortunate Dusten were all taken away fast, no pictures. Identified and cremated without any fanfare whatsoever. Since Olenna was missing and a few neighbors swore a large beast strode through their yards during the late afternoon, covered in blood, it was clear who the wolf was this time right off.

The tricky one was the girl, Margeary. She was still alive when Roose's men had arrived but torn up, wounded. After Lommy, Roose knew what would happen if they let the girl live. Roose was hesitant, he knew the rules of the town. He should give the infected woman to the Cleganes, let them deal with her disposal.

And yet, he has seen what Qyburn could do with a dead man. What he could do with a dead boy that had been paralyzed. Ramsay had told Roose all about Qyburn and he has seen Gregor and the boy with his own eyes. Could he fix this werewolf problem with his science, maybe use the girl for a cure?

Roose had the girl transported to the hospital with Qyburn ready and bursting with excitement.

 

Then there was the distasteful matter of how the remaining Starks discovered the fate of their missing redheaded girl. Cat, with her three children had attended a quiet service for their dead when someone left it on their lawn. Petyr and Lysa were there as well, escorting the Starks back home when they all saw the hair, the head and the features of Sansa. Her face was in a frozen snarl. 

Petyr caught Lysa trying hard as hell not to smile, not to giggle and he filed that for later. He had his hands full and had to text Varys fast for some backup. He dared not leave any of the Starks in the hands of the demented woman. Varys took control of Rickon, taking him into the den, shutting the door, telling him to go ahead and cry or rage, it was a safe space. Bran simply marched himself to his room and slammed the door and no one was about to bother that dead eyed boy.

Arya wasn't hysterical, no, just disgusted and sad for her sister, for her family. She assisted Petyr with her mother and wondered how Petyr has become such a fixture in their lives. How needed he has become, he has been going between his home and theirs so much it's all blended together. Arya was more interested in wondering how the fuck Petyr became so needed in her own life. But he has and his words, his needs for her have become important to her in a way she couldn't explain.

He has become the mediator of their home and mainly between Cat and Arya. Her mother means well but Arya feels smothered by the concern, by the need for her mother to have her fixed in some way. Petyr had been right, forcing Arya to concentrate on school and hard work with some creative edge along with her friends was doing wonders. In spite of the wish to be free of prying eyes and the need to attack Polliver and Tickler, Arya was feeling better already.

They have never been safer and even if Hot Pie looks like shit, she has seen the home he is in on visiting day there. The woman who runs it is severe but Mrs. Dustin takes good care of Hot Pie, Shireen and the few others there. They have their own small bedrooms, full meals and even free tickets to any event in town. Arya wasn't concerned, she and Rickon were glad their friends were safe.

 

Rickon and Robin have started to join them in the work on the haunt and its turning out very well. Varys or Petyr are always wandering about, offering advice and opinions. On the work, on their lives and encourage the kids to discuss anything and everything. Arya and the others have found it easier to express things that they would never think to discuss with principals or mayors for that matter. While working in the haunt it was different, it was like sacred space and the words flow, ideas flow, bad or good. Varys and Petyr respond in ways that make sense that don't sound like adult bullshit.

It was like a dream space and anything could be discussed in front of each other without judgment. Shireen had been pounding nails into a board while Arya was painting wide swoops of shocking orange color to blackness. "What Tickler did to you. You should be allowed to kill him. You have the right to at least castrate him." "I'm going to kill him. I don't care how long it takes me, I'll kill him. Polliver too, if I get the chance." Hot Pie gave a grim smile to them as he walked past, dragging a dusty life size mummy past them. "I kind of was hoping to be the one to murder Polliver. You don't get to go renegade on me, Arya. I come with you and we kill them together."

Robin and Rickon were tangled in their own trap of cobwebs and spiders that chatter and skitter at the press of a foot pedal. "We could help you. Us and Shireen. We could kill someone if we had to. For your friend Lommy, for what they did to you both." Shireen nodded in agreement along with Robin to Rickon's impassioned offer. A sigh went through the room and Varys came from behind the spooky tree he was wiring up.

"It's a lovely pipe dream you have there. But you must think realistically. How would you pull this off exactly? You have no weaponry and I am sure that Polliver and Tickler do. And one gun or a few blades can overwhelm the entire group of you. Those two men have more experience with fighting, sneaking, kidnapping, torture, murder and weaponry than all of you combined."

Arya looked up at Varys with fire in her eyes. "So I am supposed to just give up on justice? Should I just hide forever? Or go to Roose and let him use me as a pawn to put away Polliver and Tickler, not really for what they did to me, but so he can use them to hide whatever fuckery happens in town?" Varys tut tutted and began to set up lights for the tree. "That is not what I said at all. I said that they had more experience than you, they had weapons and you didn't. I didn't say it wasn't possible for you to go against them, I didn't say what you should or shouldn't do at all. But you need to face the cold hard facts of what you are up against."

Petyr and Varys would often keep the kids past dark and offer them apple cider and pizza. They would sit amongst their work and eat while talking it over. Talking everything over. Slowly, plans seemed to form, always started by small suggestions or thoughts from the men then grown and cultivated by the kids. A way to take down the two men, a way to get justice and possibly even get away with it.

Hot Pie's night terrors got worse and he tried hard to never remember them but they were starting to leak out. He felt gagged, muzzled, he knew, he knew what was coming, it was coming back to him. And there wasn't a thing he could do or say to stop it. The worst part was he was looking forward to it in a terrible way.

 

As the town historian, Alyn had some prestige and class status from his rich estate. However, his favorite thing to do was dress as a specter and give haunted tours. He loved chilling everyone with odd creepy facts and leaking in some of his own beliefs. He was busier than ever, regular work, his beginning tours, helping with little Sam and his own research.

It took him too long to notice how bad Damon and Sam were doing. Alyn assumed Damon was busy too and that is why he didn't return calls or texts much. And as the librarian of the children's library during a holiday season, of course Sam would be busy and preoccupied. The man had to run a ton of extra crafts classes and his storytelling skills are the best in town, so the line for his stories for the little ones was massive.

Alyn knew that Sam wasn't sleeping well, he knew the man was muttering to himself a lot and not spending as much time with his son as usual. But Alyn chalked it up to stress, work overload and their worry for the town, for Hot Pie. They have visited the boy and he looked terrible in the eyes but was clean and fed. Going to school, working on a community project and doing well.

Alyn missed the flat look between Sam and Hot Pie when he mentioned the infection of terrible night terrors going around and how he wondered if it was connected to anything else. When he said he planned to look into it, neither Sam nor Hot Pie expressed interest.  That didn't ping any warning signs to him as he was used to Ramsay and Damon blowing off his interests.

It wasn't until the night Alyn came home to find Sam crouched in a dark corner of the kitchen holding a loaded gun to his own head that Alyn saw what he missed.

 

Roose shot Ramsay's dogs and personally cleaned out his son's apartment. He had what remained of Ramsay cremated and set his ornate box of ashes next to Domeric's in his home den. There were no tears, not even an extra drink in his son's honor. Instead, Roose took a rare day off. A young girl recently arrested for possession and use of drugs that was being held without bail or representation was given a sedative.

Roose had kept her because of her connection to Polliver, who was her ex boyfriend and dealer, she was interrogated about him.  The man had left her home just before Locke had come knocking and now the girl was desperate. She gave up all information she had on Polliver and Tickler. Now she was no longer needed and Roose had a better use for her.

She woke up in his well padded basement strapped to a leather bound cross of sorts. Roose raped her and sobbed out his eldest son's name when he finished. Then he used Ramsay's best blades to flay her alive. He imagined her screams, gurgles and pleas would have pleased Ramsay very much. Just as the young woman began to shudder, eyes rolling back, foam pouring down her chin, Roose gasped in sudden new lust.

Thinking of Ramsay, Roose reached over to the silver tray and all of his son's usual torture instruments. Roose gave a small thoughtful smile as he took the adrenaline shot and administered it into the dying woman. Ramsay would make her death last as long as he could, he would wring everything, every drop of pleasure before her end. Roose was fully in his ritual, his honoring of his children and so he fully committed himself to it.  

The adrenaline worked fast and the woman became horribly aware again, her eyes bulging, her voice croaked for Roose to please let her die. Roose responded by dragging one hand through the exposed gore of her arm, of the entire left half of her chest. The pleading became screaming, her voice was starting to go and her body had another seizure, racking the cross back and forth.

Moaning, Roose gave her a look of terrible sympathy mixed with a burning desire long hidden. His voice was soft and reasonable as he wiped away the girl's tears and gave her a sip of water.

"You are doing so well. I am impressed. I am sorry, I know how much you are suffering for me. But it's for such a good reason, dear heart. You see, my sons are dead, both of them. And this is how I honor them, by doing what they do best. Domeric enjoyed the sexual domination, some of the violence of our family hunts. But my son Ramsay, he really got involved in the true hunt, the wet work of it, if you will. But you are taking it so well and it's almost over really. You are already dying, little whore. Can't you feel your system already shutting down? This shot only keeps your death prolonged, keeps your pain growing and I only have two more shots left for you. So...at best you'll last another hour or so if I am very careful. Let's see how careful I can be, sweet stupid crack whore. Hmm? Remember, it's for Domeric and Ramsay. Do your best to let me know how you are feeling, will you?"  

 

 


	46. Red And Thrashing

Sandor stopped dead and stared at Unella before shaking his head. "Are you trying to get him to kill you or something?" Unella sat upon a pile of steel traps drinking a third beer, using one of the empties for an ashtray. "Sorry, I should have asked before taking your beer and cigarettes. I'll buy you more later. Why would Gregor care if I had a few drinks or smoked? I'm not pregnant, right? Just taking hormones and vitamins, so he shouldn't give a fuck what I do to my body."

"You haven't eaten in two days except one candy bar, you don't think the beer might make you fuzzy? We are in the middle of hunt season, you need to focus on the right shit. And look, be as paranoid as you want, but if you were carrying a baby, would he let you hunt? It would be too dangerous. And you are on for all hunting still. So you probably are just going through your lady shit and losing your damned mind. Gregor is going to lay you out flat if you get sick from drinking during a hunt."

Unella gave a grim smile and finished her beer before responding. "Until I became too heavy to hunt, he'd let me. It would be half super zombie baby, remember? Gregor would raise it all Sparta style. I don't care if you think I'm crazy or not, fuck off." Sandor spit on the ground and walked away grumbling that her language was getting worse too. "DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK!" Clapping a hand over her mouth in shock, Unella wondered if three beers on a two day nearly empty stomach was such a good idea after. "Whoops. Fuck it."

Giggling a bit, oh yeah, better get something to eat in me fast before Gregor EATS me, she found that hysterical and was laughing and gasping. Unella hurried to put the empties in the recycling bin. Staggering inside, she threw Sandor's pack and lighter on the counter. She got a pot of strong coffee going and took a fast cold shower which helped a bit. Careful to hold the railing, Unella started to come downstairs. She laughed at the thought that she might truly, accidentally fall down the stairs this time and who gives a fuck anyway?

Unella didn't even see Gregor until she tripped on the third to last step and catapulted right into him.

 

Alyn stood frozen as Sam looked up at him from the kitchen chair, hidden in the corner. A gun was firmly pressed against his own head and Sam spoke remarkably calm for one about to blow his brains out. "I haven't shot myself yet because the sound would scare the hell out of little Sam." Nodding, Alyn slowly sat down in the nearest chair and spoke softly, striving for a calmness he did not feel. 

"Good thinking. A sound like that in this house would be incredibly loud, might even cause him hearing damage. Unlike the head blowing trauma he will have over losing both parents. One to a werewolf syndrome and the other because he blew his brains out. Oh yeah, and consider that Petyr will never let me keep the boy. Is that really where you want Sam to end up? In Petyr's hellholes? What are you doing, man? You aren't making sense. We have got a handle on shit, we can handle things, we always have, right?"

Sam gave a sad smile and shook his head a bit. "No..no this isn't stress or werewolves. I have been up a lot at night and you know, I have heard you crying out a bit here and there. Are you finally starting to dream of story times, broken mirrors, a clown named Whisper, seeing any blood on your hands yet? Funny, you talk about everything else...but not those dreams. Not the clowns much either. Less and less. Do you remember any of this yet? You look like you almost understand me, like you feel sick but don't know why yet."

Alyn shifted and took a steadying breath. Sam was right and Alyn knew that lying might just set his high strung buddy right into a bullet. "Fine. Yeah, I have been having nightmares. I know you have been, Damon has night terrors something awful and so does Hot Pie. I'm apparently joining this group and who knows how many others? But you shut down when I mention clowns or conspiracies of hive minds and subliminal messages and hypnosis. So I stopped mentioning it. I'm not scared like the rest of you over the dreams, not disturbed by them. No. I don't know why. Probably because I don't think they are real. I think they are implanted."

Sam tilted his head and suddenly the look on his face gave Alyn that jolt of fear that his friend was talking about. It was a different look, glittering hard eyes and too wide of a smile. Full of cheerful malice and shared secrets that Alyn was suddenly positive he didn't wish to know of. Alyn felt smaller, shrunk down and he stared, lips trembling as Sam smoothly reversed the gun and stood up. Sam was round, friendly and soft, but now he seemed, menacing, something Alyn couldn't have believed possible.

"They are real. The memories. Whisper was as real as Shitmouth is now. And once you remember the clowns created by Whisper....you'll understand. And be horrified because you can't stop it. We can't change what will happen. Once it starts...it doesn't stop until Halloween ends. And who will follow us this time around? Will it be those other kids? What if my son is the batch following that? And Alyn, I can't stay alive. Because this time around, I am the storyteller. Do you remember the storyteller from OUR past yet, Alyn?"

Alyn moaned and grabbed his hair, ruffling it fast. "No. Nope. Not going there with you, sorry pal. Tell you what. Roose was fucking correct, one hundred percent. You need to leave town and right now. Take the boy and yourself and go fast, anywhere, I'll give you money, take my car, okay? Just please, you are scaring the fuck out of me and I think the town is driving you crazy. Get out, I say this with true love and friendship. Go."  Sam laughed and leaned against the wall, suddenly right sized, just  his fear and misery left.

"I think it's too late for that. Alyn, what if the town won't let me leave? What...what if it makes me do something to my son? If I stay or leave, Sam is in danger. What do I fucking do? The best I can do is break the cycle by taking the storyteller out. It's all I can think of." Alyn was thrilled that Sam allowed him to gently ease the gun away. "Sam, buddy, I don't understand what you are talking about. What fucking storyteller? Just tell me straight out and stop expecting me to decipher dreams like a fucking gypsy!"

"I can't tell you. We are compelled, I think, to do or not do certain things. And one thing I can't do is remember for you. We each see it differently, had our own parts and can't say it to anyone that doesn't remember. And we can never tell anyone who wasn't there. It's blurry to me if we promised that last part of free will or not. Pretty sure it was a mix. Yeah." Sam smiled at Alyn's frustrated face. "Sorry." Alyn pointed a finger at Sam. "You are leaving, I'm packing you and little Sam right now. You will take my car, go as far as you can, it has a full tank of gas. Take that boy and get as far away as you can, okay? Try. For me, please. For your son."

 

When they fled from Ros's trailer just as Locke had shown, Tickler suggested they try a much better hide out.

Polliver loved the idea of using the old abandoned youth detention center Petyr once had run. He loved the idea of pissing all over the place he spent so much of his youth. Being back in the bleak building made the dreams come stronger, faster and clearer. At night Polliver would find himself standing naked in the bathroom staring at the broken mirror giving screaming laughter. Tickler was wearing a terrible look of demented joy and both remembered, jagged shards bleeding together.

Unlike the others, Tickler felt no real alarm, upset, trauma or surprise over the dreams. And for him they were wet dreams more than nightmares. Tickler has always been on great terms with his sadistic side. Guilt and shame never registered on any grand scale nor has morals or ethics. Even Polliver had a few more limits than Tickler.

So after Polliver finally remembered, waking in pealing shrieks from his sleeping bag, Tickler quickly gave him some cocaine and let him go a bit nuts. Polliver ran through the place naked, laughing and screaming. They were discussing where to steal weapons from when they heard steps coming. Both of them tensed but then heard a familiar voice bellow into the stale air of the detention center.

"Well, if you two assholes came back to this fucking venereal disease of a building, you must be remembering! So, you squealing bags of dick tips, are you just going to sit back and wait for shit to happen? You think none of the others are remembering yet? You think the new clown disciples aren't learning and doing so really fucking fast, you fucking morons? Remembering doesn't guarantee any form of a fucking win, asswipes! That boy, your pet hog is remembering too and oh, how PISSED and how SAVAGE he is! And Tickler, that bitch is gunning for you something fierce, you should hear the plans that she has for you, boy. She isn't even more than a beginner and already, she is worth more than you, I think. Those kids actually have a fucking plan going, they are coming to kill both of you. You know that, right? And you two are just gonna stand here feeling up each other's testes, until they kill you. Is that it, you blundering fucking pimples of the hairy ass of life?"

 Polliver and Tickler merely smiled at Shitmouth. "We need weapons. And a plan. Any ideas?" Shitmouth began to juggle and finally replied. "The kids are all working every day and night at the stupid fucking barn, making it into a haunted house. Anyone working there with them is going to be involved. Might as well take them all out at the same time. Don't you think?"

 

Alyn watched Sam drive away and he staggered inside. He tried to call Damon again, leaving frantic messages then he sat down in his office. A half cup of coffee did nothing as he blinked then laid his head on his own paperwork, dozing out. Waking with a scream, knocking the coffee, now cold onto the floor, Alyn stood up, staggering. It was no longer the fading light of afternoon, Sam and the boy would be gone by now. 

The cell phone rang and Alyn snatched it up in a near scream. "Hello!" It was Damon, sounding surly and distant. "You call me and text me like a damned stalker. What do you want? Why are you screaming into your phone?" "Sam! Sam is the storyteller, he tried to take the kid and run, I told him to. He was going to go right past the farms and keep going. But I didn't remember like he did, not until just now! He is the storyteller, Damon! So what happens to-Hello? Hello?"

Damon threw the phone down onto the passenger seat of his car and did a squealing u turn. He drove towards the darkening country road towards the town limits, cursing loudly. Staying away as he remembered things was clearly not the better idea. Maybe if he had spoken to them sooner, this shit might have been averted or even prevented in some way. All Damon knew was he felt sick to his stomach. 

He remembered the storyteller, oh yes. The town won't want to give up Sam and Damon had a sense of urgent doom as he raced down the road.  


	47. First Rule of Clown Club

Screaming, screaming, always fucking screaming and why won't he just shut the fuck up? Why every other time would little Sam enjoy a country ride but this day of all most important days must he fucking scream? Scream no matter what music Sam put on, or even when he tried to sing or tell just a little frigging story to the little shitty brat!

Oh no, no, please, I love him, he is my world, please, don't go there.

Don't touch him.

Don't to speak to him.

Just breathe and drive.

Drive and ignore the screaming, ignore the rage and stupid thoughts, terrible thoughts THAT HE WOULDN'T EVEN BE HAVING IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE FUCKING SCREAMING!

No. no. Please, not yet, almost out of town and please-

Sam has always loved the library. It was his sanctuary as a child and he had been determined to make it the same safe haven for more children. His intentions were pure, or had been, he is very sure of that. Every year his spooky stories were picked with great care to each age group just like the crafts and activities were. Of course, some kids always got a little too scared of things, it was normal. The parents never blamed Sam for it anymore than they blamed him for a kid crying at the park screenings he put at the park each night.

The movies were the usual corny family affair, nothing gory, bloody or overly scary. And the crafts were all bats and ghosts, carving smiling pumpkin faces. Sam puts out a list every year for the parents to view what stories he will be sharing. Keeping with traditions of the child library, Sam only allowed the children to attend the actual storytelling event. Parents dropped their children off or hung in the adult section while Sam entertained the young ones with gentle spooks. No child that visited a storytelling gave a bad review to their parents.

He gave a jagged laugh that was almost as loud as his screaming child as he drove faster, faster. Oh yes, but then again, when he was little, they never told on their storyteller either. Because they didn't remember or didn't want to maybe? Or because some of it was terrifying, yes, but....it was good too. Some was bad, some was good and it all mixed together. Now Sam was seeing what he was blind too for so long.

The children were not hearing the fare the parents saw listed. Or rather, they were but not the same way, not with the same results or endings. Sam has developed a taste for the fear in the little eyes. How long has he thought one thing while doing another? Well, how long was he in charge of the kids now? He remembered their storyteller didn't always seem to recall what he did either afterwards. In fact, at the end of it all, the poor man had been confused!

Another laugh and he wished to hell the kid would shut the fuck up and let him THINK! Sam wiped sweat out of his eyes and took the turn way too fast, the car squealing in protest. Sam thought of a small silver lining in it all.

He might have been telling horrific tales to the small children, terrifying them for fun but he wasn't...he didn't do what HIS storyteller had done. At least it wasn't that bad and that was something, wasn't it? Sam was sure of it. He was and that is why instead of trying to hurt his kid he was saving him. Before worse did happen and Sam was mildly positive that he will do worse if he stays.

What if scaring them became not enough or what if scaring them is only a part of what he might remember? His brain swirled, the kid screamed and Sam was never so happy as when he saw the beginning of the road that led straight out of this fucking town. In his mind, he rocketed forward never knowing that he was slamming his foot on the brake instead of the gas. The face that turned to look at little Sam looked nothing like the usual fatherly look and the boy screamed even louder.

 

Gregor was less than amused at his wife's antics.

Unella was aware of this fully as he shoved his cold gray fingers down her throat until she vomited up beer then bile. He then nearly water boarded her with water and mouthwash before forcing her into a cold shower. She was freezing and shivering before Gregor determined her clean enough to get out of the stinging chill of the water. Shoving her stiffening limbs into clothing as if Unella was a doll, he dressed her for hunting then tossed her into a kitchen chair.

Being force fed bread and water was a new experience and one she didn't wish to repeat. "Why do you care if I drink or eat or smoke, Gregor? What does it matter?" Unella couldn't believe she dared to snap that out after Gregor decided she drank and ate enough. He glared at her and leaned over her just like he leaned over Cersei. His teeth gnashed as he spoke and Unella flinched back hard.

"You want to drink, starve or smoke? Great. Do it off hunting season. I know what Qyburn said but bitch, you are fucking testing me. I am done with this new attitude and rebellion of yours. End it or I will. You will regret making me end it for you." Unella lowered her eyes and gave a small nod, anything to get his teeth away from her damned face. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking right, I shouldn't drink before a hunt." Gregor moved away to grab their jackets and throw hers into her face.

"Let's go. Sandor is probably sleeping in the fucking truck by now. We won't make it into the woods until after twilight now, thanks to you. Get moving." Unella said nothing as Gregor roughly shoved her out the door and nearly tossed her into the truck. Sandor was indeed napping and Gregor gave him the punch he really wanted to deliver to Unella. That alone was enough to make Unella narrow her eyes and continue to believe something was growing inside her. And that was not going to be okay with her. No, Sir.

 

Sam was confused. He stood in the center of the dirt road not too far from the town limits. The back roads, yes, but why? This was clearly Alyn's car and that was little Sam's car seat firmly affixed in the backseat. It was empty, the car was empty, the driver's door was flung open and so was the back door closest to the car seat. Which was empty.

II was going to take him and leave town.

That is what I wanted to do.

Yup. Sure of that, yes, Sirree.

He wondered why he was giggling and his hands twiddled crazily. Oh boy, where is my boy, speaking of boys? Sam flung his head back and stared hard at the darkening sky as if the answers were up there. They weren't but Sam did seem to have a small memory. A memory of shoving his toddler towards the tall grass beside the road. Screaming into the boy's terrified small face.

"RUN RUN RUN YOU LITTLE SHIT WHILE YOU STILL CAN RUN! DADDY IS BAD! YOU NEED TO RUN FROM BAD DADDY RIGHT NOW RUN!"  

The boy must have obeyed and now that he is clearing his mind, he hears him. He can still hear the sobbing, wailing and Sam grows this terrible urge. Dimly disgusted by the drool he feels coating his chin, Sam starts to fight with his internal demons. One foot then another and part of him wants to hunt down the boy and the other half wants to die rather than hurt his own son. Sam screamed and grabbed onto a tree at the side of the road, hanging on for dear life. 

 

Damon nearly drifted the car right off the road as he tried to stop upon seeing Alyn's car askew across the whole dirt path. He saw Sam hugging a tree and then run screeching, drooling and gibbering into the darkness. The toddler's cries could be heard from in the woods nearby and Damon tried to figure out where to even start with this mess. "Fuck it." Damon plunged into the nearby trees, calling the boy's name.

It might have been an inopportune time for it, but overwhelmed, terrified and tired, the toddler curled up in a small hollow, sinking into uneasy sleep. The stomping and yelling of Damon was no more than a monster chasing little Sam through dreams as the sky darkened. Damon searched until he heard the first howling begin in the distance. Cursing, he rang Roose Bolton to explain the child missing in the woods. 

"Where the hell is his father?" Damon cleared his throat and said uneasily into the phone, "Uh, that Sam is missing too. Little Sam is lost in the woods and I am pretty sure his father is out telling stories, not ones with happy endings either." Roose didn't bother to ask what that meant and Damon smiled into the night as he hung up the phone. Didn't matter, none of it mattered and Damon found himself laughing and slapping his knee like he thought that was the funniest thing he ever did think.

Why didn't Roose ask, because why would he? As if Roose wasn't fully aware of the fucking clowns and Damon sprayed spit along with his laughter. Then he stopped and just panted, staring at the sky. "Too late for me. For Sam, for the others, too late and here we fucking go." Tilting his head, all the thoughts starting to clear up, all the memories coming affixed into his mind, Damon grinned and it felt good, felt right to stretch his facial muscles until they hurt.

He wondered if Alyn was having his own mind rocked yet and Damon got back into his car. Having already forgotten the small boy and dimly recalling that he has lost the older Sam, Damon headed back into town. He needs to reach Alyn, make sure he remembers and isn't putting a bullet through his own brain or something equally as stupid. It was easy, it was simply too late and they might as well enjoy it to the end and Damon is sure he can explain that to Alyn.

 

Alyn was indeed up, his hair twisted into corkscrews as he yanked at it. Damon guffawed at his friend and the shattering of sanity.

"I remember! And look! LOOK! Everything makes so much sense now but it doesn't matter never mattered all fucked anyhow. Look at the cycles! See it, every year the creatures come because they are drawn here. Not a fucking real mystery there, so stupid for me to chase that but anyway, why? Why? because we are on a magical land line...sort of right on the fucking thing! But...someone way back knew that and made some fucked up pact! Some fire cult and it only happened ONCE! None of generations after them could do it again but once was enough! The clowns! Ah, Damon, clowns are the real sacrifice, not the creatures sniffing around, they are here because like a moth to flame, ya know? But the CLOWNS! We are the fun part, every fifteen years, the real slaughter happens! The big sacrifices for this town to flourish!"

Damon continued to paw through Alyn's shit, knocking things everywhere, ignoring the crashes. "Do you remember the first time all way yet? Like all of it, Alyn? And hey, where do you keep your explosives?" Alyn was calmly setting fire to the papers upon his desk and shrugged. "All of it, some of it, none of it. All of it at the same time and I wish I didn't. I feel bad that Sam is the storyteller. I know how the cycle goes now and I sort of hate that it will go that way for him. Kind of like how our story teller was. Like he was in a terrible dream and couldn't understand why the blood was there, right? Ha." Pausing, Damon turned and stared at Alyn. "What was his fucking name again? The storyteller?" Alyn swept all the burning papers into his metal trash can and watched it burn, smiling.

"Benjen Stark. Nicest fucking guy in town. Volunteered to tell stories at the library and at the school. And at the fucking hell hole Petyr ran too. Remember good old Mr. Stark? He always seemed like he was so nice, like he didn't even know. But we didn't seem to know either, like...we all were sleep hearing through story times. Some would cry or wet their pants...little kids, big ones, didn't matter. The fucking stories were so awful, the one about the woman who wears a ribbon to keep her head from falling off! That story in it's real form is scary enough...but then he had those additional endings...or what the wolf really did to red riding hood! Scared us so bad and it was exciting too. It was so fucked up and he loved it, you could see in his fucking eyes that he fed on it. But then when it was over, when the lights turned on, we all forgot, he would forget too."

Alyn sniffed sadly and shook his head before continuing. "Of course, it couldn't just end there, no, scaring isn't enough. How many kids did he actually murder? I don't think there was ever an accurate number. Just more missing bodies not blamed or the clowns or the creatures. But we knew at least three of them, didn't we?"

Damon nodded and with a savage grin he ripped the door off a cabinet to grab the bottle of whiskey. "Yeah! Yellow Dick, Luton and Ben. White trash and brutal fuckers even as little kids. They were bullies, worse than us! Hell, we learned from them! But they were still just kids, just scared little kids when Benjen killed them. And he didn't just kill them, he cut them into friggin pieces! And can't let that shit go, buddy! Not with Whisper in your fucking ears! And if I remember, didn't Benjen say something about HIS CLOWN?" Alyn chuckled as he stood up and began to pull out weaponry.

"Oh yes! He did! When he saw Whisper, when he understood what was happening, Benjen remembered his own clown. He begged with us, screamed at Whisper and the others. And told us all about Shitmouth the Clown. That is what set Sam off, I think. He remembered the name, because he was already playing Benjen's role without knowing it. He wasn't scared of Shitmouth, he was scared of being as groomed by Whisper. He was right, he was, we all were! It was you, me and Sam that killed Benjen, the others only witnessed it. Then we witnessed while Polliver and Tickler had their kill, they used that little kid, Hot Pie. They used him as bait for their victim, didn't they?  Poor fucker, he got the worst of it, I think. And Whisper helped so much, didn't he? Hot Pie almost killed Polliver after, remember that? Whisper didn't have any clown gear for Hot Pie yet, but that little fucker was a clown from that second forward, he just didn't know it. Whisper got us all primed for round two. So now...you see what we have to do right? We have to go and kill Sam before he starts killing. I tried to halt it by getting him and the boy out of town but it didn't want to let him go. We can't find or help the kid in the dark woods. But Sam is out there somewhere, ready to slaughter. We have to find him and kill him."

After drinking half the bottle of whiskey, Damon handed it to Alyn then sat down heavily. "I have an idea. We have to kill Sam, yeah. I agree, there is no choice just like last time we did it. Can't let killer storytellers murder kids, nope, not a good thing at all. Gonna have to follow tradition on that one. But here is what I propose we do after that! Let's not follow the rest of that bullshit. No, let's just do the right thing and go straight to killing all the clowns in one big swoop. One big boom, maybe?" Alyn finished off the bottle and smiled back at his friend with shining blank eyes. "Buddy, that is entirely reasonable and fitting! Now, which one of us has any clown make up stashed away that we forgot about?" Both laughed heartily and didn't notice how their laughter sounded so much like screaming.


	48. Playing Them Like A Broken Fiddle

Lysa simply couldn't take it anymore and snapped. "Cat! That is it! I simply cannot take this, something has to give! Petyr has our young ones out all the time working on the stupid haunt! And since you do not go out to rule over the festivities anymore, I only get to sit here and wither away with you! All you do is hover in case that dead boy decides to robot his way out of his room to snap an order for something. It's obscene! And I hate to be brutal, Cat, but dear, your roots are beyond showing as are the wrinkles! And do you even care that you just served me store bought cake, you don't bake well but at least you tried! Now even that is beyond you!"

Cat began to give some dull response that Lysa had to pretend interest in when Lysa jerked back in her seat. It was like a lance in her head and she grabbed her forehead. "Is something wrong, Lysa?" She could tell her sister was hoping that it was bad, that it was something that would make her leave. Cat was always spiteful that way.

Hissing, Lysa staggered to her feet. "No...well, yes, I have a splitting headache. I think I need to go home and rest, dear. This...all this has been stressful and of course, you knew store bought cake could give me a bad chemical reaction. I am going home, would you pick up Robin and drop him off tonight?" Not waiting for her sister's response, Lysa flew to her car, whining at the annoying sound in her head.

She nearly hit two laughing lunatics in some old car, rocketing past her downtown.

"Fucking rednecks and hipsters drag racing down respectable streets." Lysa flew past the mild traffic downtown, heading for a perfectly dark and closed clinic. It didn't matter, that wouldn't matter one fucking bit, Lysa would tear down walls if she must. Anything to end the turmoil in her head and if she figured out how it was happening, she will destroy it. Using the janitorial entrance, Lysa stormed into the clinic and allowed the beacon in her head guide her.

 

They all sat on the ground, in a circle, repairing netting for one of their main monsters when the whispers began. "Why you all do that, why not have a small game of truth or dare with me? I am the only one who asks the questions though. Let's try it."

Hot Pie smirked and looked up, raising his eyebrows. He watched the tall slim figure slink past the different painted scenes drying nearby, the raspy voice echoing through the barn. Arya had noticed her friend has been changing, his eyes growing harder but almost excited, waiting. He looked like a pit bull dying to get off a straining leash. His laughter at jokes was like hearing razors dragged over kittens and all he would tell her was he was remembering things.

That he wished he could tell her but he is pretty sure Arya will know soon enough. Arya had told this to Rickon who told it to Robin who passed it along to Shireen. The girl passed it back to Hot Pie who informed her that she should understand how to gossip better. Judging by Hot Pie's face and the whispering voice, the others tensed, thinking this might be when they will understand things better. And all of them weren't truly sure they wanted to understand at all.

Shireen nodded and watched as Petyr came forth dressed in his shiny new costume that was actually quite old. Hot Pie gave one of his jagged laughs and then slumped down in relief. Arya patted his shoulder and asked, "What's wrong? Did he scare you in that get up?" The boy shook his head and swallowed hard before he muttered, "I was afraid he would be dressed like...a clown that I used to know."

Petyr smirked at Hot Pie and responded, "Well, I am not sure if that means you like this costume or not. No, young man, I hate repeating the same costumes and this year I hear another already has claimed attention as a clown. A rather crass one and therefore, I had to do something different. Plus, I really wanted to reflect my own emotions within it, to reflect my new position, so to speak."

Robin and Rickon admired the cool antique circus ringmaster outfit and were quick to let Petyr know. Almost instantly, Petyr regretted the adoration as sticky, wet fingers came for the shiny buttons and tassels upon the outfit. It took him a good moment to disconnect the boys from his costume which had belonged to an actual ringmaster from a freak show that died out in the early nineteen hundreds. Shireen had to come aid Petyr by shoving the two idiots back at the netting.

"Help get these knots out or it will never be ready in time! Sit! How would you like it if I messed up your costumes, huh? Idiots, sit right now! Sorry, Petyr for the mauling of the morons." Shireen sat back down as well and they all began to work on the netting again as if in a dream. The lights were on spook level and they had lit a few actual torches just for the fun of it a bit ago. Gold and crimson colors pulsed and shadows flickered through it and they were calm, they were listening.

 

Lysa traveled through the boiler room break room and had to stop, had to. The button was lit and yet, there was no coffee in the pot. What a hazard that was and Lysa shut the thing off, huffing. A bag of sugar was left open and wasn't that just an invitation for ants and mice, alike? Briskly, Lysa cleaned up the small room before heading up the steep steel stairs into the clinic lobby. All doors were locked and rooms were dark, no help here for her problem.

A gasp tore from her as the sound increased in her head, it had been nearly quiet while Lysa was in the basement, now it burst through her whole self. She slammed into a wall and squirmed against it, growling for a moment. Wrenching herself forward, she pressed madly at the elevator button. Lysa threw herself into the elevator when the doors slid open. Frantic, Lysa pressed the button for a floor she never has been to before. It was just where she needed to go.

When the metal doors slid open once more and Lysa stepped onto the dimly lit hallway, the feeling faded off. With a sigh of true annoyance, Lysa wished these things could be more efficient! If some horrid thing is going to draw her somewhere, it could do so without these inconvenient breaks. She can't just wander about a whole building waiting for that terrible beacon to hit her!

There was no help for it, so Lysa began to silently go down the hallway, peering into small window above locked doors, mostly encountering darkness. Two lit rooms were of mild interest. One of them had computers, lab equipment and things that Lysa imagined were used for surgeries. She fiddled with a few things but really none of it produced the sound or any clues for her. Then it ripped through her again after touching the surgery bed in the center of the room.

Staggering away, Lysa fell into a tangle of wires from the main machine. In a frenzy of agony, tangled up, Lysa began to pull out all the wires and plugs as she struggled to free herself. Standing up, weaving, Lysa had her beacon back and left the room at a near run, snarling.

 

Petyr leaned against the wall in a way that allowed the torchlight to play upon the golden tassels upon the rich crimson velvet. His usually clean shaved face now sported a thin, curled on the tips pencil waxed mustache. His small eyes were made a bit larger and more mysterious due to a skilled hand with a make up pencil. With a wolfish grin and his tall hat at a jaunty angle, he utterly looked the part of an old time circus ringmaster.

"So, while you eternally untie that netting, let's play. Truth or dare...Shireen, would you like to go first, dearest?" Shireen gave a quick look up at the whisper and gave a shrug. "Sure, I guess so. Uh...since I'm busy doing this...it will have to be truth." It registered briefly how it seemed her voice was far off, how the flickering, the endless movement of her fingers, it was all unreal. She felt as if she were floating in a river, maybe a dream one. Looking at the others, they had the same look on their faces.

Not Hot Pie, he looked almost hungry and impatient and Petyr looked...like a ringmaster and he sounded like the reasonable pathway to follow in a dream. So Shireen looked up without fear of anything and waited to give a truth. There wasn't much surprise to her when Petyr's whispered his question. "Truth it is. How did your parents and the whore die?" Shireen gave a small snort as if she knew it was coming, ha, ha, funny joke.

But she answered and her voice had little to no emotion to it. "I got Ramsay Bolton to aid me, teach me how to murder them and burn the house down. Well, he murdered the whore, I just burnt up my parents and we both burnt down the house. Then he promised to foster me but it didn't happen. I heard he died and that makes me sad. Ramsay had so much to offer me, he promised to be my mentor."

Hot Pie gave one of his jagged laughs and he grinned up at Petyr with a desperate sort of glee. "Holy shit, you really do know how to pick the next clown generation, don't you? Wow." "Now, now, Hot Pie, let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we? I know you are excitable but you need to ease into such things. But yes, we always do know how to pick them. Though as much as I would love to take the credit for such things, I cannot. The town is the one that picks, offers the choices, not me."

Rickon and Robin were busy absorbing what Shireen just admitted to. "I had to, guys. I had no real choice. My parents and the whore were going to sacrifice me, burn me alive to try and raise a fire demon or something stupid like that. No one would believe me, you know that! I...I felt like they all already knew and no adult COULD help me! I had to save myself, do you see that?" Petyr nodded and slid a bit closer to the group.

"You are correct on that, Shireen. Even Roose suspected and wasn't going to help you, Varys felt terrible about it but couldn't help you. I suspected that little cult, the Starks did, even Robert was terribly concerned. But not enough to remove you from your home, not enough for him to take you into his own family. Because this town chooses its own and no one may mess with that. It's a no no...fate takes it own way in the fall, dear and we must abide by it. This was your own personal town test that no one could help you study for or take for you. You had to find your own way out of it and you did so with amazing glory, if I do say so myself!"

Petyr gave a light golf clap but Hot Pie leaned a bit forward and grabbed the girl's shaking hand. "You did what you had to do. Don't feel guilty or sad over it. You had no real other choice, did you? And getting crazy Ramsay Bolton to help you? Holy hell, girl! You are a badass! Welcome to the clown tribe, Shireen." Rickon and Robin crept forward a bit then, messing up the already ruined netting.

Shireen peeked up at the moron brigade, afraid that they will think less of her now. In spite of their idiocy, in spite of her need to tease them, she loved them and couldn't imagine having them hate or fear her. But they held eyes of blank button curiosity and just fired questions at her. "Is it true that humans smell like pork when they are on fire?" "Did it take them long to die, did you time it?" "Did their eyes melt?"

 

 Lysa was heading down the hallway, slinking fast and the feeling was gone, running off without her. She clenched her jaw in sheer frustrated misery and darted into a small dark room. Leaning against a wall, she tried to get herself under control. This was ridiculous, really! The shrieking of buttons and machines from the room she was in and other areas, it was loud and distracting. Probably from all those stupid wires!

She heard a person go by, heading towards the shrieking room of wires and strange torture devices of some medical nature. That was as far as she understood of that room, this place and all she cared about was the beacon in her head. Lysa was aware that this clinic was where her nephew went before he became the black eyed thing that pretends to be Bran. But that was Cat's problem, not hers.

After hearing the man go by, the feeling, the beacon began to dimly flutter within Lysa and she slipped back into the hallway, turning a corner. Judging by the sound of the irritated voice yelling at someone on a phone from the wire torture room, it was the creepy Dr. Qyburn. With a shudder of distaste, Lysa went further away from his voice happily. He was a strange repulsive man that Lysa remembers is Bran's doctor and didn't that just make sense?

Of course Cat would pick a lunatic to treat her children! Lysa stopped dead and looked down slowly at the flat shoe that just came right off her foot. Stuck to the damned floor! In a hospital setting? Lysa had to find the janitorial closet to retrieve a mop and bucket. Once she finished cleaning up the bits of blood, hair and gristle off the floor, she was satisfied. Lysa stopped in the bathroom to thoroughly clean both her hands and her shoe.

Hearing the creepy doctor go by, Lysa heard him mutter, "It's about time that the janitors took care of proper cleaning around here. Least I don't have to waste my time calling them again. Now if only my damned technicians would be so kind to do their jobs faster." Lysa gave a tiny grunt at that and put her shoe back on, inspected her hair, tightly braided. When she left the bathroom, she saw only the flutter of white cloth as the man turned the corner far ahead.

Hearing a door open, Lysa sniffed deeply and found herself dragging her nails along the wall as she walked. The plaster was at first lightly scratched, lines as if it were a car being keyed. As she heard Qyburn speak to someone, the person responding with a wail, flecks of plaster now fell to the ground as Lysa ran her nails on the wall and walked faster towards the voices.

"Well, my dear, it looks like some of our testing will have to wait until morning after all. However, I do have some things still working and we shall just have to prevail with what we have on hand. Don't cry, dear, I keep telling you that I am trying to help you. Now I know there is some discomfort, but dear girl, it's for science, for research and maybe a cure for you! So...we shall use more stimulation to make you turn and then let me take some blood, biopsy and more if we can manage it. Now this time I will not start at the lowest or highest settings. Just a medium and adjust from there."

 Screaming began and Lysa was thrown against the wall as the beacon burst through her head, nearly making it explode. Lysa roared silently as she arched and saw the lovely moon outside the barred window.

 

Qyburn had to admit, as much as it was science itself that was his true love, his second was a touch of sadism. He didn't have to cause as much pain as he did sometimes, but he felt it was a price that subjects should be willing to pay. After all, he was usually curing them or finding a cure through them and both animals and humans have never thanked him for these acts. They should but they don't and force him to work in secret.

He has a small kink or two that he might indulge in on occasion. Usually around fall time, he begins to give in to some of his worser urges.  He knows what it feels like to fuck a corpse. He knows what it feels like to masturbate on a dying person and Qyburn knows what it's like to spill himself onto lab animals that whine and squirm in  great agony. The recent events with Gregor and Bran have swelled his ego and that alone has swelled his head, heart and cock.

This werewolf girl was truly a beautiful female specimen. He has kept her secluded but for himself and one nurse for everyone's safely and to be honest, his own private needs. Sedation was kept running on low doses into the girl to keep her compliant, relaxed and unable to turn herself or free herself. Mostly, Qyburn would use the sedation during hours that anyone might dare to wander through, such as Roose Bolton or one the two snoopy mayors.

During any procedures, surgeries or examinations, Qyburn prefers to use an agent that doesn't take away emotion or feeling but instead paralyzes the girl's body. That way he can watch her eyes, hear the whimpers of fear and pain, see the tears drip down the pretty delicate features of her face. He wasn't too sure that he could actually heal this girl but she might hold the promise of a cure. So he took samples of everything he could.

Margeary was always kept restrained upon beds or stretchers, always drugged with either a sedative or a paralytic. A machine that allows stayed with her pumps the chemicals into her system that Qyburn loves to change. He enjoys sending burning dye through her so he can see how her body lights up on screen, how she screeches with the internal fire racing through her system.

Qyburn won't deny that he lost it a little bit earlier tonight. After everyone was gone, it was quiet and the night held so many possibilities. Science came first of course, so any tests that Qyburn wished to run, he did before having his fun. Then he ran the burning dye through the machine that was also feeding the paralyzing drug through the female. Quickly, he adjusted the buttons on the machine so that any sedative remaining in the girl's system would become painfully flushed out.

Once he saw that the female was aware of everything, was seeing him and feeling the fire licking, scorching through her, Qyburn undid his pants. He raped her as she sobbed and seemed to make a faint howl that went on and on. He bottomed out in her then he reached over her for clamps. Margeary looked so terrified as he attached the thin metal wires to make her eyelids stay open. Moaning, Qyburn started to push in and out of the warm suffering test subject again.

He had run his hands over the mix of pure white smooth flesh that had shocking contrasts of harsh red stitched skin. Qyburn had to pull out in order to run his face, teeth, tongue and penis over all the warm, tender wounded puffy skin. This made the female start to spring tears and she managed to give small twitches which Qyburn utterly adored. Leaning up, Qyburn adjusted the machine to reduce the paralytic just by a slight amount. Just enough for the girl to give a bit of struggle in the restraints.

Qyburn had climbed back on the female and enjoyed her useless twitching, flinching and squirming as he began to fuck her in earnest. After he had finished, Qyburn had gone to shower then returned to clean her up. He had forgotten that he reduced levels and gave a chuckle as he scrubbed her body clean of any trace of him. For the sake of the nurse who must deal with the catheters and bags hooked into the girl, Qyburn also used a douche upon the girl.

While she struggled with no real success. He found it truly cute and responded by soft laughter and giving tiny teasing little pinches to her for the antics. The machine suddenly had started to shriek and Qyburn had gone to deal with that. Now here he was without his usual machinery but the binds were tight enough, there was still some paralytic and dye swarming within his trapped wolf girl. Qyburn was always willing to be creative and think out of the box.

So he hummed reassuringly to the girl as he attached small hooked stimulators onto her nipples, clitoris, tongue, finger tips and toes. "Now, the electricity will course through you and might cause you to seize, jerk and drool. Do not worry, even if the pain is awful, it will not last very long. Just a test my dear, nothing more. Are you ready, lovely girl? I hope you might turn after this and we can run better testing."

The sizzling sound was sudden and horrid as Margeary arched off the bed as if possessed. Her hair seemed to go all puffy and her body strained, every muscle, tendon was like crafted marble of fine art. It was enough and the doctor groaned, pulling out his penis one more time this evening. He rarely ever had such a grand opportunity as this girl and he fully intended to make use of it. 

He had climbed up on the jerking, helpless girl being tortured by burning, by electrocution and gave her a gentle smile. "Ahh...you constrict everything so tightly like this...I want you to know that even though I cannot cure you but possibly receive a cure out of you, that when its all over, when I autopsy you, I will take your skin. I will hang it and think of you fondly, dear. I want you to know that."

Qyburn gave a loving look at the horror and torment in Margeary's eyes and began to pound into her, feeling tender and savage all at once. "If you don't want me to be so rough, you have to stop making those lovely sounds. It only spurns me on when you make those little begging sounds." He was deeply thrusting, soaking in every second of her twitching pain, Qyburn was lost in his pleasure.

It took him a second to register the door bursting open and then a woman that still changing into a wolf came for him. Qyburn was still inside the test subject when Lysa sent a huge clawed hand into his head. He hit the plastered green wall so hard that he was halfway in it or at least his head was. His body was still pressed deep inside of Margeary, sending twitching dying pulses of seed within her.

The half wolf half woman turned and growled down at the traumatized young woman as the claws threw the headless body off and shredded the restraints.

"I don't appreciate your methods of getting help. Just because you got yourself into a sticky situation doesn't excuse your rude way of getting my attention. The only reason I am assisting you is because you keep hurting my damned head. Get on your feet and get moving. I won't shelter or help you past this point. I have a son to protect and appearances must be kept. So get into the woods and watch out for the hunters."

 


	49. A Piggy Among Wolves

The pulsing lights, the flickering shadows, haunted house music ran through it all softly. It was tape that Petyr and Varys have used since they can ever remember. Chains clinked, demons threatened, ghosts wailed, a haunting piece played upon a hurdy gurdy. Clicking of nails, footsteps, creaking of doors and all of it becomes a rhythmic tone of its own. Mild smoke from the torches seemed to create an otherworldly space.

It was a place that was meant for rituals, for dangerous secrets and so much more. Petyr noticed the kids were not very interested in a game of truth or dare. He will try another way, he is amendable like that. After all, he has spent his life working with children and teenagers. Petyr looked down at Hot Pie who had just managed to unravel another knot. "Why don't you tell them a story, Hot Pie?"

With an alarmed and disgusted look up at Petyr, Hot Pie growled, "I'm not the storyteller! I remember all of it, Petyr, don't try and trick me like that." With a chuckle, Petyr shook his head. "No, that isn't what I meant to imply. The storyteller is poor Sam, sad but true. Therefore, all of you should avoid Sam if you see him. He isn't his usual self anymore, it won't matter who you are. Hot Pie, you are simply going to have to tell your part of the story. They are all so confused, look at their faces. You tell your part and then I will fill in the blanks afterwards."

The children did look mildly confused but their eyes were already wide open, they were listening. Arya found herself watching Hot Pie carefully as if every word he could say would affect her very life. And somehow she knew it really would. Part of her wanted to tell him to shut up, not to speak. The other half, the dominant half was leaning closer to hear better. Hot Pie shifted position and without hesitation the others formed a circle around him.

Petyr lit some incense that gave the room a warm pumpkin spice scent with a hint of blood wafting just beneath it.

Hot Pie looked at everyone and then with a nod to Petyr, he started.

 

"I guess when my parents just went away. Uh, just for the record, I still stand by what I say. Alyn and I looked it up and matches. I believe vampires got my parents, they were turned then killed or just plain drained out. I mean, what parents just get up and leave during the night taking nothing with them? If they were leaving me to go somewhere new, my mother would at least take her purse and my father left his wallet. They had to still have been in their pajamas and they even left the car. So I didn't go to the police or anything, I just tried to...wait for them to come back. I mean, I was little but I wasn't stupid. A person leaving for a long time takes their purse or wallet and the car! So I just went to school, came home and waited. It worked out fine until I ran out of food. It had been a month and I didn't know how else to get something to eat. Funny, isn't it? Even then, I was only eating bits of your school lunches and eating one can of tuna for breakfast and dinner but I was still fat."

Petyr handed out apple cider and Hot Pie swallowed it gratefully, his throat already dry. It felt good to say it and terrifying all at once. Also, it brought back the terrible sadness he felt, the terror of being so abandoned, loving his missing parents so much he kept believing he would die of it. But nothing better comes from this story and maybe saying it out will just...let it all be so easy from there. So Hot Pie continued after drinking a bit more of his cider.

"I started to shop lift from this little corner store and they finally caught me at it. Old fucking asshole couldn't let that go, no, he had to call the police. And Roose Bolton was officer Bolton then and he was also an asshole. A cold fish but a real sadistic one, way worse than Raff, in different ways though. He decided that he would scare the shit out of me by tossing me into a jail cell. Tossed me there because I wouldn't tell him who I was or anything about my family. Didn't take him long after he tossed me in a cell, to figure out who I was. He didn't take long to figure out that I hadn't had my parents around for awhile. At first he tried to interrogate me, like I killed them or something. Finally, he just told me that child services will take me and my parents have skipped town, case closed. Bye bye."

Hot Pie glared at Petyr, who shrugged and mildly responded to a silent accusation. "I have no control over what Roose does. He was never my friend, you know. The grocer was trying to press charges and putting you in the juvenile detention center until we could locate a relative for you was our only option. Ten is not a good age for a boy to enter such a rough environment but you weren't the only young one. Just one of the weakest...and that was not my fault."

A small flinch but Hot Pie gave a firm nod. "Yeah. True enough. I was small and fat and scared half to death of everything, everyone there. I was an easy target. We were given rooms that were separated by sex but not by age. And in some rooms, kids were crammed like luggage, others were only two or three. If you were favored, you might get a room to yourself or with just one other person. I wasn't anyone at all. In fact, the jerk that was processing me was laughing. He said that since they weren't expecting a new person that day, they couldn't be expected to group me any better. They threw me into the teenage trouble maker unit, lucky fucking me. Alyn, Damon, Polliver and Tickler. Might as well have tossed me in naked with a bow and yell, "It's National Bully Day! Here you go!"

Arya patted his shoulder and said softly, "I remember how you were always bruised up back then. You were so grim and I was scared you would just die or run away and I'd lose you. I begged my parents to adopt you, you know. Even though he is an incredible asshole, I was happy when your uncle finally came to claim you."

Hot Pie gave a bitter smirk to his friend but he patted her hand before moving it away from him. "Yeah, that was how I felt too. I hated him so much but that one time I was never so happy to see my loser uncle. Imagine how I felt when I moved in, went to see the gym I would have to work at and saw that Polliver and Tickler were taking classes there! Felt like I was being fucking stalked by bad luck and bullies. Even my uncle was a fucking bully, making me have to work every night at that stupid gym to earn my keep. Charging me rent so I had no choice but to be his free fucking labor!"

Petyr shifted and cleared his throat. "You have gone too far ahead of yourself." Hot Pie drank more cider and started again.

 

"They all bullied the hell out of me but Polliver and Tickler were the worst. But that was just everyday stuff and then there was way worse at night. The staff sucked, I mean truly sucked during the day. But the night staff were fucking monsters. Kids got tortured, kids got raped and sometimes they even died. And no one stopped it, no one spoke about it, just covered it up during the day. Meryn Trant was all about beating us for fun then getting his jollies off with the youngest girls he could find. Polliver and Meryn had real bad issues. Meryn was raping and beating on this pretty girl that was Polliver's girlfriend. Polliver made the mistake of trying to have him and Tickler attack Meryn, to take him down. It didn't work, the man screamed loud enough for the other staff to hear and overwhelm them. Meryn had the other staff lock Tickler in seclusion until he nearly went insane. But not Polliver, he got something special and the staff made all of us watch as an example."

Sipping the cider, it suddenly didn't taste as good as Hot Pie was recalling things. He put it down and looked at his hands as he spoke softly.

"Meryn raped the girl while we all watched, they made Polliver watch real up close. Then Meryn started to shock her over and over with a cattle prod while taunting Polliver. I don't think Meryn meant to kill her, but she died. We just saw her flopping like a fish, her eyes rolled up, foam and thick pink stuff came out of her mouth and she was just...gone. They beat all of us, told us we would be killed if we ever spoke of it. We were tossed in our rooms and she was just gone. No one cared. But Polliver cared plenty and most of us cared too. We didn't want to end up like her but we knew more would die if no one did something. I hated Polliver but when he spoke about rebellion against the night staff, I listened. I offered to help. Should have known offering to help a bully would be a bad idea."  

Arya snorted. "Polliver cared that someone was raping his girlfriend, he had no trouble letting Tickler do it to me. He would have done it himself it he had the chance to. And they both would have been happy to hurt and kill me. Lovely way to remember his girlfriend and honor her memory." Hot Pie smirked but he gave her a gentle shove.

"Yeah, they are fucking hypocrites. But Polliver was crazy over it and Tickler came back all fucked up from the seclusion. They had become way more brutal than ever and they were trying to brand their Piggy mascot when Damon stopped them. Yeah, that is where they came up with that name for me. So I tried to join them both to stop the staff and to give them a reason to not hurt me so much. It worked a bit but it turned out so fucked up in the end. Meryn was Polliver's main target of course, but there were two other night staff members. They were just as awful and brutal and they had to be taken down too. Ilyn Payne and Euron Greyjoy. Ilyn was a mute and he was old but he was friggin strong and scary. Then there was Euron who was the youngest of the three but way crazier. He loved to get kids all fucked up on drugs and alcohol. Whoever partied with Euron came back bloody, shaking and refusing to ever speak of it. Boys and girls had gone with him, sometimes a few kids at a time. I had no idea what happened but I knew it was bad."

 

Hot Pie asked Petyr for a water bottle and downed half of it.

Petyr noticed that Shireen looked a tad downcast and he asked if she was alright. "Yes, I just feel sad because I know that Hot Pie is going to tell us Euron has done terrible things. I like the Greyjoys. I liked Balon and Euron. It's always hard to hear awful truths about people you liked."

Shrugging, Hot Pie gave Shireen a small smile.

"This was back before you would have ever met him. He worked at nights and the man was like a freaky pirate. That eye patch always got me. Anyway, all of us there were ready to battle the night staff but we had only half ass ideas, you know. Then came Whisper and the plans smoothed out. The fosters all walked to and from school. All the clown had to do was wait for us to walk by and start offering to tell our fortunes. He told us exactly what we were going through and we were hooked. He gave us good ideas, he agreed that we had no choice but to get revenge. To kill them all."

The kids had faces of hard grim judgment, they agreed with this idea. What other choice did the victims have in this town but to get their own justice?

"Damon started to tell Whisper his concerns for his buddy Sam, could he help him too? Turns out his friend Sam from school was a favorite of the storyteller for the school and little kids library. Sam was helping out as part of his school extra credit classes. Carrying and filing crap for Benjen and Sam had started to suspect something was going down. Something really fucking awful. He saw blood smears on the rugs that were cleaned up before he could return to them and confirm what he saw. Sam swore he heard a kid calling for help from the library basement once. It was fall and Sam noticed kids came out of the locked story room with tears still drying upon their cheeks. Kids and adults were missing and Sam knew it was blood, knew he heard a child scream. So Sam begged Damon to go into the basement of the library one day while Benjen was out. The incinerator was chugging away and there was a trash bag near it. Ashes, some bones and a some kiddie clothes. Then some older kids clothing too. There were two bikes nearby. Damon knew the kids that owned those bikes! They had been considered missing, declared runaways two weeks before. Sam was certain the man was a child killer, he was also afraid that Benjen might kill him too. So Damon brought Sam to meet Whisper. We had to get rid of these terrible monsters, we had to. And Whisper had a good idea how we could get all of them at once."


	50. Send In The Clowns

Lysa held Margeary's arm firmly as she dragged her out into the back employee driveway. Then kept walking towards the dark wooded area.

"You cannot be seen with me, dear. I am afraid I must leave you to your fate soon, I always find it better not to interfere much. It became too much effort after my beloved son was born. I need to concentrate upon him, you see. You are still under the sedative, damn it. I can't leave you here right in the center of a parking lot near your kill. Listen dear, some basic rules as we walk, come on..there you go, climb into the woods with me. Well, this isn't truly woods yet, but if you keep going the instincts will get sharper and you'll know where to go from there."

She dragged the mostly limp woman deeper in the trees, cursing as her shoes kept slipping her. Lysa took a deep breath and the urge to change was so hard to resist but she must. Robin will be home soon and she must be there. Once he is safely locked in his room then she may roam but not yet.

"Rules, Margeary. We do not disclose each other to anyone not of pack. I am your alpha and I don't want anything to do with you or any of the others. What I want is the rules followed and if they aren't, I will come for you myself. Rules are easy. Do not disclose each other. Don't come near me or contact me unless I summon you or my name is mentioned by one of the others to anyone not of pack. Understand those rules and we are all good. Now, I am leaving you here, just lay here and rest. Once that medication wears off, things will get clear for you. Goodbye."

Lysa ignored the weak hands and soft questions and simply headed back to her car. It was despicable what that doctor did to the new wolf and Lysa felt not a shred of guilt for killing him. She let out a tiny laugh and thought of how she has yet again helped her sister in a way that she can't tell her. Like she has done all their lives. A doctor that does things like that to a werewolf is not a good doctor for Bran. And Lysa will never be able to show Cat how stupid she has been yet again. Such a frustrating but funny thing.

 

Robin and Rickon looked up at Petyr. "You were Whisper the clown, weren't you?" Petyr gave a small bow.

Shireen looked up with eyes that held nothing, blank and somewhat disconcerting. Her soft casual voice made it even more so. "Varys is Shitmouth. Because you two are partners, neighbors, best friends and I think if my parents had wanted to really know magic ritual shit, they should have visited you. Do you know what Varys did to me? What more he would have done to me if Ramsay and his dogs didn't come by?"

Petyr came forward and crouched before Shireen, tilting his head, his eyes seeming to drink into her energy. "I love what you are becoming. I can see the promise within you, truly lovely. Shitmouth the clown is repressed most of the time. I can assure you that he wouldn't have killed you if that makes you feel any better. But it wasn't Varys, not really. Just like Sam isn't Sam right now. We don't get to choose who is the clown that sets it all of. None of us get to choose who we shall be or what we shall do, really. Once the make up is on, you aren't you anymore. Varys adores you, dear, but Shitmouth hates children, love. And what he did to you, I can tell you it had nothing to do with a desire to fuck a young girl. It wasn't about anything but scaring and hurting. I am sorry but it's the way it works."

Standing back up,he spoke to all of them.

"It wasn't Varys or I that started all of this but we must play our part. A long time back a cult similar to what Shireen's parents were trying to emulate found a way to make our town private and prosperous. Every fall bad things happen, sacrifices, human ones and suffering happen and the demon they dealt with feeds on it. The town itself seems to choose who shall be what. And some years the sacrifices are small, other years they are huge. The town picks the clowns, a storyteller. Oh, I mustn't forget the monster hunters, town seems to choose them too. Ever since the ritual, monsters have sniffed around every fall."

 

Hot Pie had just come back from the bathroom and he pointed at Petyr, hollering. "I knew it! You admit it! I told even YOU that vampires killed my family!"

Shifting with a fake sympathetic look, Petyr spread his hands. "I don't know if vampires got your parents or not. I don't go near those creatures and I do not have any immunity from supernatural creatures. But what was I going to say to a little boy?" Petyr pretended that Hot Pie was little and patted his head in a reassuring way as if he were five. "Sorry little guy, vampires are here for the season and yeah, they probably either drained your loving parents of blood and left them to rot or turned them into bloodsucking monsters. In fact, dear boy, if you happen to see mommy or daddy, they won't care that you are their son, they will rip out your throat and drink you dry. Have a good night."

Petyr moved back as the others gave a small laugh and even Hot Pie smiled a little bit. "Yeah, okay. Fine." With a smirk, Petyr stepped out of their circle and resumed his position of leaning against the wall. Hot Pie sat down and took another hot cider. "Did you know about the night staff? Did you know about...Euron?" With a grimace, Petyr shook his head.

"I knew the night staff was rough, not how rough, perhaps. However, Euron frustrates me to this day. I would never have hired a damned vampire pirate. He was basically using my hard earned building to snack upon its residents! Why go out and drain a neighborhood when you can send your minions to do that? Better to just sip away at a continual resource until it was time to go. No hunter would enter the detention center to come after him, it was brilliant. The other vampires did the work and the leader took a vacation, at MY expense. Then he just went away and that was that. I am still wroth at the creature and I would pay any price to get the hunters to give me proof of his final death."

Rickon and Robin were full of joy. "I want to meet a vampire, I never got a teacher or counselor that was a vampire!" Hot Pie looked over at Robin and shook his head. "You don't want to be a vampire. What I remember Euron...what he did to me...ya, I know Petyr, I am ahead of myself." Rickon piped up. "I want to be a werewolf like your friend Lommy. Like Sansa was. Sounds way cooler." Arya simply sighed, giving her brother a look he has seen most of his life.

"Ignore my brother, he is an idiot. Rickon, I was up close with the werewolves, way too close. Sansa was eye to eye with me, only a window between us. And even though she knew who I was, I could see that she was ready to eat me. She wanted to eat me, Rickon, her own sister wasn't off limits to slaughter. Monsters are just that, monsters. You don't want to meet them or be them." 

Shireen shrugged and spoke. "I met Euron and he was very nice to me. I met Shitmouth and was beaten, almost worse happened. The monster was safer for me then the human. Guess it just depends on the situation."

Petyr gave a sigh and turned to look at Hot Pie. "I believe it's time for you to continue your story."

 

Nodding, Hot Pie began, his voice heavy with memory and the awful emotions that had come with it.

"It was decided we needed to get all the targets into one room in the hellhole, kill them all together. Whisper helped us each decide how to go about doing that. Sam, Damon and Alyn had the task of getting Benjen to the detention center, get him to our slaughter room. That left Polliver, Tickler and me to deal with getting the others. Whisper told us that was an easier task since the staff was already in the building. It was just a matter of subduing them and getting them in the room. We chose an old bathroom on the third floor that was old and never used. Most of the toilets and sinks were broken but it was large and that was all we needed."

Hot Pie shifted and started to work on a knot nervously. "So here was the plan they created and I agreed to. Like a fucking idiot, I trusted them. First they were going to take down Ilyn, then get Meryn. Whisper helped them by getting them some weapons, not guns, no. They had fucking machetes, chains and blowtorches. What a great thing to give to sadists. Oh and a bat, mustn't forget that fucking bat." Petyr smirked, whispering, "Don't get offtrack. It's only memories, Hot Pie, none of that can hurt you now. Just keep talking while we still have time for it."

"Sorry. Wasn't a real good memory for me. Anyway, so they had weapons, Damon, Alyn and Sam were given the same kinds of weapons, I think. I didn't get any weapons at all. Polliver said I wouldn't need them for my part. Because I was only the bait and they would be the ones to take down Euron, I just had to be the bait. What a fucking lie that was! They wanted me to keep the most nosiest and strongest staff member busy while they dealt with the others! Then they planned on mentioning to Damon, Alyn and Sam, that, oh yeah, we left Piggy to Euron, we can all go as a group and kill the fucker. I wasn't just bait, I was literally thrown to the slaughter! I could have been DEAD by the time they would have shown up! And they fucking KNEW it!"

 

Hot Pie had to stop, breathing heavily, tears scalding on his hot cheeks.

"Give me a second. Okay. Sorry. I really hope this time, we get to have the fun, Petyr. I really do! I hope I get to kill that fucker, I want to do it so slowly!" Petyr tilted his head back and took a drag off his cigarette. "I don't know, I am not a fortune teller. But I would say this might just be your time to shine. Who knows? Maybe you will finally be the one to make others cower at the sight of you. Maybe you will surpass the bully. Are you ready to keep going? I can tell it for you but it won't be the same, I am not you."

"I'm good. Okay. So here is the real important thing, guys. Before we attacked, before we went after them, we met with Whisper. There was a ritual first. We were in one of the old break rooms and there were torches, incense, hot cider and we were all carving pumpkins. While Whisper told us about the ritual way back when. About how the fire cult had opened up something and made one hell of a deal. Humans and monsters creating sacrifice, making pain and death for some demon to feed on. In exchange, a prosperous little town and every fall, humans kick it off with clowns. No one ever has a reason why it's fucking clowns. But there is always one clown that sets off the others. Usually for reasons of revenge. Some clowns die, some will survive but not remember until it's time to be a clown again. A storyteller tells children stories that scares them so badly that the demon can enjoy it. Then the storyteller goes ape shit and slaughters kids, teenagers, like dismembers them and shit. Plus the monsters that visit do slaughtering, the monster hunters slaughter them, by the time fall is over, this demon is way overstuffed."

Petyr gave a small titter at that and tilted his head. "That was an interesting way to explain things, but that is the gist of it. Continue with that night, please."

"We all sat there while Whisper brought out this old battered case. It had all kinds of clown make up, wigs and gloves in it. Some funky costumes too. Not everyone wanted a costume but we all picked make up and stuff. I remember watching Damon, Alyn and Sam put on their make up and it really changed them. They spoke in different tones and all sounded way too cheerful in a violent sort of way. They were laughing and swinging machetes around, skipping as they left, whooping it up. Polliver told me that we would put our make up on after all the staff was contained in the upstairs bathroom."

 

Hot Pie drank more cider and gave a tiny shake to himself before continuing. He did peer up at Petyr first with a scowl and mutter, "Talking about this would be easier with a bit of alcohol instead of just cider." Petyr smiled at Hot Pie and gave a tsking sound. "As if I would deliberately encourage a minor to drink. Get on with the story."  

"I didn't see any of the take down of the others. I only know what happened with Euron. I had never approached him on my own before if I could help it. It would seem silly that I just had a sudden interest in Euron for any reason I could think of.  So Polliver and Tickler ever so kindly assisted me with it. They chased me through the halls directly towards where Euron liked to sit and drink late nights. We were silent so we wouldn't draw the attention of the other staff but we raced right in front of him. Euron hated running in the halls. Despised that shit. We all had skidded to a halt right after that and started to apologize. I was crying, the tears were real, of course, I was fucking terrified of the pirate!  Following the plan, I launched myself at Euron, clutching at his arm, begging him to save me from the bullies."

Hot Pie's face had turned so grim it was hard to watch him retell it.

"Euron hated running but he really had a thing about letting the kids act out dominance and aggression. For fun, he would arrange a once a week fight club for the boys who wanted to do it. He would sneak in folks who wanted to bet from outside and let the winners have extra privileges for a week. So it was like me going to my uncle and asking for help against the bullies. Useless, pointless and only makes me a target to the adults and the kids. No winning. And Euron let the others go as they predicted he would. Not me though, he wasn't letting me go anywhere but to his personal fucking playroom down in the basement. I was petrified, couldn't even speak, couldn't stop crying either. Totally pathetic and Euron was eating that shit up. He led me to the room he brings the other kids and I really expected some sort of dungeon but it wasn't! There was a long soft couch, two gaming systems, a wet bar, television with cable was exciting enough to me at that point! Oh and he had bowls of snacks."

 

Shireen was smiling now.

"See? He just is a nice guy. Even if he does drink blood and is a killer, he offers a teenage club I would most certainly join. I am still Team Euron, Hot Pie. I'm sorry, but I cannot help it." Hot Pie grinned at the very prissy voice and nodded. "Okay, Shireen. You can be on his team, I don't mind. The room was cool, it wasn't scary even if Euron was. He sat me on the couch offering me a snack, then he gave me a small green bottle to drink. The chocolate bar was delicious but the drink was awful. I almost spit out that first sip and then I asked him for water instead. Euron leaned way too close and told me to drink it. I was scared so I did. The taste was terrible but I started to no longer care after a few minutes. I don't know what I drank but it messed me up really bad. I truly only remember tiny flashes of what happened."

Hot Pie's face scrunched as he tried to remember. "He let me play a video game, I remember we were laughing at how bad I was at it. I remember trying to tell him that I was drunk, but he just laughed at me. After that, it gets real hazy. I remember being naked and wondering why, I remember screaming and begging him, I remember blood. I remember pain and I clearly remember that he kept biting and sucking on my inner thighs. I think I begged him not to rape me and he told me that wasn't what I should beg him for. That it was my life in danger, not my virginity. I couldn't move at all, I could barely speak and I knew I was in the hands of a vampire. That I was going to die and that Polliver set me up for it. It didn't matter if Polliver knew that Euron was a vampire or not. He knew that he did terrible things to kids, that Polliver would never return in time."

The grins the kids had worn before were gone. Hot Pie's face told a terrifying story and even Shireen who loved Euron, even she felt terrible for his ordeal. "It's Polliver's fault then, not Euron's. It's a fisherman dangling bait before a shark. Is it the shark's fault for taking the bait or the fisherman who deliberately offered it?" Petyr smirked and gave a small nod. "That is how I see it too. I despise Euron for making his buffet table at my facility, but truly, Hot Pie, I agree that Polliver did that without any concern for your safety. He is to blame, so is Tickler for agreeing to it. And they never did come back to get you, did they?"

 

Hot Pie grimly shook his head. "Nope. I ended up coming to my senses on the floor of the upstairs bathroom. When Damon, Alyn and Sam came back with Benjen, they ran to find me. Soon as they heard that Polliver had left me with Euron all that time, they came running to save me. Even as crazed clowns, those three could remember to save the most pathetic clown of all. I remember hearing the door smash in and then Euron was off me. I heard the others scream and I don't know what happened. I remember Sam scream about the teeth, to watch out for them. Alyn was thrown against a wall and Damon hit another wall and Euron was just gone."

Shireen looked a bit happier then. "Well, see, he didn't kill anyone after all! He just tossed them around and took a little drink from you and left. Impolite perhaps but he is still not the one there killing kids." Hot Pie grinned at her and gave a sudden laugh. "Actually yeah. When I look at it that way, he was maybe the least of the monster when it comes to brutality and killing. Still was fucking traumatic to me, thanks. But I forgot it by the end of fall. Except in nightmares and deep down in me, I always felt such anger over Polliver and Tickler. And I could NEVER go near any Greyjoy without feeling scared and sick. Didn't know why though."

Without any real thought to it, Hot Pie sat within the soft netting and the other kids did the same, still surrounding him. Petyr sat in the vacated seat and folded his hands, waiting for the boy to go on and finish it.

"I was sobbing and wailing, shaking, as I started to clear up. Polliver and Tickler kept mocking me for it and I remember hating them with every fiber in my body. I wanted to kill them, wanted to make Polliver scream and beg to the very end. But they were all still busy with their ritual and part of me knew I had to wait. While I was trying to pull myself together, I watched. Polliver and Tickler had their clown make up on by then, of course. And were watching Damon, Alyn and Sam torture Benjen to death. They used machetes to slowly chop him up like he did to his own victims. They were slow about it and really quite jovial the entire time. Polliver and Tickler cheered them on and even offered suggestions, but they didn't touch the man themselves. Ilyn and Meryn were both chained and gagged, watching too. They were both bruised up and Ilyn was missing an ear and had a bad wound in his back, pooling blood. Meryn didn't look as bad but he looked twice as scared. That was good, I liked that."

 

No one even noticed that Petyr had gotten up and was rummaging in the shadows for something. Well, Hot Pie did, but he knew what was going to happen, he wasn't alarmed. Just eager to finish the story now.

"When Damon, Alyn and Sam were done, they stood back and cheered on Polliver and Tickler with their own kills. Polliver took his time with Meryn, jabbing out his eyes, cutting out his tongue, flaying his chest until he died from shock. Tickler was like, an artist about it. He was frigging scary. His face was a happy clown look and his eyes were dreamy and cheerful. He used the blowtorch for a little bit, melting part of Ilyn, his toes, hands, face, he made the guys ear fucking melt off. Then he started to use the chains to strangle the man, give him air, then strangle him. He eventually removed Ilyn's head with a machete. Then he jerked off into the stump which none of us really wanted to see. But I wasn't really watching by then. Whisper had moved the clown make up box closer to me and I got some paint on my face. I felt better as I smeared it on. Then while the others were making gag sounds and yelling at Tickler, I picked up a nail studded bat and attacked Polliver."

Hot Pie looked up at the kids with a serene expression.

"I was a clown. And I was going to beat Polliver to death. After the third hit, Polliver started to squeal...as if he were a little fucking Piggy. No one helped him, no one stopped me. They did as much laughing at his pain as the others. It was clear that Polliver was no better than the others and his fate just might be to die. I broke his hip, I broke his arm and I was trying my damnedest to cave in his bald fucking head. He begged me to stop, promised to stop calling me Piggy. He offered me anything I wanted if I would stop. And I fucking stopped. Don't know why...I just did. I gave one whack to his head that knocked him out cold and dropped the bat. But Whisper told me I was going to have another chance someday. Not to worry. We carried Polliver to our room and left him there. He would wake up or not, no one cared, really. We washed up, we went to bed and the slaughter was done. No one ever suspected any of the kids of the gruesome murders. It was just more unsolved shit to cover up, no big deal, it was fall. Polliver ended up in the hospital after having seizures and I went to live with my uncle. By the time I ran into Polliver and Tickler again at the gym, none of us remembered being clowns. In the end, any murders that couldn't be hidden were blamed upon Meryn and Ilyn. That they had been serial killers in disguise working among innocent children. Being dead, they really had no defense. It was over and fall was done."

 

The kids watched as Petyr set a battered old case before the children. "And now the clowns have been sent for once more. Polliver and Tickler are befriended by Shitmouth. Do you think they will wait very long before coming for you? They know you are here, that they can attack here and reach you. Do you think they will hesitate to kill anyone here, not just Arya and Hot Pie? Who knows what Damon and Alyn would do after they get a hold of Sam? But I am certain that Polliver and Tickler will show soon, maybe not tonight, but soon. What will happen then?"

It was no surprise to anyone that Shireen was the first one to open the clown box and peer inside. Arya looked up at Petyr. "Where are the weapons?" Petyr smirked and pulled out a larger chest. He loved it when things went this smoothly.


	51. Vampires, Werewolves and Zombies

Cat had decided to run to the pharmacy before heading to get all the children. It was across the street from the back of the clinic and Cat was almost in the drugstore before she saw it. Lysa's car and why would it be here of all places? Did something bad happen to her son and she had to come here? Or was something wrong with Lysa herself?

Briskly, she crossed the street and then arched her brow at the clearly closed and locked clinic.

Then Cat stepped deeper into the shadows as her sister emerged, with another person. It was Margeary Tyrell and she looked, sedated and injured, wearing only a hospital gown. Cat listened and followed them. She waited until Lysa was gone before heading for her own car. Cat didn't let Margeary see her leave, she felt bad for the girl, but there was no way to help her.

But Cat had bigger issues anyway, much bigger fish to fry, oh yes.

Placing first a call to Petyr, Cat remained very calm and cordial as she spoke. "Hey, sorry for this at the last minute. Could you keep the children just a bit longer for me? I know you have better things to do and it's late, but I really need it." Petyr had no surprise or questions to his voice, Cat didn't notice or care. "Sure, Cat. You just let me know when you want them home. They are perfectly happy working so I'll let them be. If they finish and grow bored, I'll get them some donuts and cider, no problem."

Taking a deep breath, Cat headed home. Bran was in the kitchen, but for the first time since he came home from the clinic, his mother didn't smother him. Cat walked past him into her husband's study, getting his hand gun and the bullets.

She didn't even notice that Bran was following her as she headed into the basement. Heading straight for Ned's hunting and camping gear, Cat was readying herself. "Mother, what are you doing?" "Sorry, Bran. Didn't see you there. Mother is busy right now. Mother has to get ready to go kill her fucking cunt of a sister." Bran's black eyes grew wider then grew interested in a very predatory way. "Killing Aunt Lysa? Sure, but why? I can help you gear up, offer the best choice on weapons."

Cat was no longer feeling quite herself and had no problem accepting Bran's help with murder. "Lysa is the alpha werewolf. She started them all off...she is responsible for what happened to Sansa. To Ned, Robb and Jon. I blame her for all of it. And she needs to pay." Bran nodded then started to rummage through his father's stuff then went to his own workshop on the other side of the room.

"A werewolf isn't like killing a person. She needs a silver bullet at least. Or something silver, in her heart or brain and cut off her head to be sure. And you need way better padding, Mother."

Grabbing her son's cold hand, Cat squeezed it. "I am glad we can finally bond again. Thank you, Bran. Thank you for helping me get justice for our family."

 

As soon as his mother left, ready for battle with a head werewolf, Bran went to his room to set shit on fire. Just before his mother came home, Bran had heard about a murder in the clinic. A janitor found Dr. Qyburn dead. Bran knew so much, he could continue this man's work but not here, not in this town. His mother wasn't the only one hunting monsters this fall. This pissant town was always stuffed with monsters and Bran didn't wish to be one of them.

He might have to be a living dead man, but there was so much more to him. This town was sucked dry of any potential, it was caught in a cycle of slaughter that it will never understand. Bran found that irritating. He knew he was destined to be so much more than he can be here, it was time to go. Everything he needed he can keep in his head and physical items can be achieved again.

Bran wiped his computer, his lap top, his cell phone all clean. Retrieving his father's hammer, Bran beat the shit out of his electronics until it was all just shattered pieces. He put them all in a bag and packed his backpack and left his home without a single backwards glance. Waiting until he got halfway down the block, Bran pulled out a tiny remote and pressed a button.

The rigged bedroom began to smoke and smolder, small fires breaking out here and there. Swinging the bag, Bran walked into the fog and through the center of town, humming tonelessly.

The white van with no plates upon it slowly crept towards him and only when the lights blinded him, did Bran turn from his focused walk. A beeping sound and he heard Sam's voice. "Hey! Not too old but way too dead, get the FUCK out of my way! Unless you want to die again? Or instead of your legs how about I rip off your fucking arms!"

 

Margeary crawled, as the sedation wore off she moved to a walk, then she seemed to be able to run. It was a hobble and she fell, her usual grace was gone, but something was slowly replacing it. She staggered until she began to feel such pain and fury at that disgusting man, her grandmother, fucking Lysa! The cracking of her bones, fur sprouting, nails felt pierced through her fingertips, her jaw stretched to breaking level as teeth stabbed her gums.

It was horrible and wonderful all at once and Margeary was HUNGRY. She chased and ate five squirrels before concentrating enough to find the den. It was no surprise that her grandmother was there holding court once again. They were all in half human form, as if they cannot or will not turn fully back anymore. There was really no point to it, not anymore. Not according to Olenna.

"Ah, grand daughter, late as always. Yes, you hate me, doesn't matter one bit anymore. We are discussing our survival, dear. As I was saying, everyone needs to embrace their less human half right now. We are in danger. While we are hunting the humans, the monster hunters will be coming for us. Being a werewolf doesn't make us live any longer if they catch us. We need numbers and a good attack to defeat them. Turn or kill them, turn your hunger into a focus for only sweet hunter meat tonight, children. We must be stealthy, attack then retreat, even a deep scratch can make a difference. Tomorrow, we shall go to the homes nearest to the fields and feast. Find the strongest and turn them. Build an army to overwhelm the hunters. But tonight, let's hunt those hunters!"

A howl went up and Margeary was shocked to hear herself howling just as eagerly as Lommy and Ygritte.

 

Bran gave the finger to Sam and continued to head for the thickest area of fog. He heard Sam throw something at him as the tires squealed and the van flew by. Turning slightly, Bran thought it looked exactly like the head of the paperboy in his area but it had to addressed by someone else. Bran already had his own quest to follow and it certainly didn't involve reporting decapitations.

The fog swallowed him and he embraced it. The cold mist was soothing on his skin and it matched the chill he had inside of himself. Bran walked up the wharf until he reached the end of the pier. With a mighty swing, Bran tossed the bag into the ocean and smiled. "That isn't the right way to go fishing, boy. That is causing pollution." Bran tilted his head and looked at the man leaning over the side of the pirate ship. The one that Bran could have sworn was not there a minute ago.

"I don't mean to pollute or go fishing. Destroying evidence of things this town is too stupid and simple for. I need to go elsewhere for research, for study and to create..."

"I see. And what do you want to create, young man?" Bran didn't care that the pirate was leaving the ship, coming closer. He didn't care about the howl of a wolf, nor the sight of a silver wolf wandering the fog nearby. The lack of fear seemed to fascinate Euron and he was smiling. Bran simply answered his question. "I want to create a new race or at least create the next step."

"What a coincidence, dear boy, so am I. Searching other interesting places, trying to create a new family, a new race of us. You and Gregor have one thing in common, I see. Well, I have a werewolf already, why not offer a zombie a chance? Something tells me you will be a great partner when it comes to our attacks, where we should sow our seeds, so to speak. Come aboard, young man. I won't force you, this isn't a kidnapping, it's an offer."

Bran didn't look back anymore than Euron did. Only the furry silver wolf seemed to look back as if yearning for something he lost.


	52. A Clown's Work Is Never Done

A good clown's work is never done. Shitmouth hummed jovially as he drove around in the multicolored station wagon.

First he had to help out his two buddies, they might be brutal but not great thinkers, all raging cocks and snorting noses. Disgusting pimples on the boiled ass of a raging battle chode. Nonetheless, he gave them his best guidance and let them pick their own weapons and makeup. He had his chests in the very back and the two idiots giggled while they rummaged.

He said nothing when they picked their make up and costumes but Shitmouth could only take so much. He went from loud sighs to shouting at them.

"Tickler, you are a fucking idiot! They are in a barn full of cloth, fake walls and flammable everything! You use a blowtorch in there, you'll kill all of you at once! Stupid, get your head out of your ass! Did your mother have any children that lived? The best part of you ran down your father's leg. Yes, an axe is much better as long as you can wield it correctly. Uh, fucking asswipe, you almost removed Polly-wolly's head! Take a machete or the bat, the hammer, anything but...ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT? HOW IS PICKING UP THE BLOWTORCH AGAIN MAKING A BETTER CHOICE?"

Polliver grabbed a bow and arrow, shoving it at Tickler as Shitmouth took away the blowtorch. "Here, you are good at archery. And a nice lead pipe, plus look, a cattle prod. That should be fun. Look, some pliers and we both have blades. Good? Now fuck off." Polliver shoved him away. Tickler grumbled but sat down with a cracked mirror provided by Shitmouth to apply his make up.

Shitmouth leaned towards Polliver with a leer. "What'll it be Pollyanna? What seems appropriate to kill Piggy with? Besides a pig roast, as you just heard me explain to Tickler...no fire and no guns. Guns aren't very sporting. We leave that to the other kinds of hunters in town tonight." Polliver's eyes glowed and he spoke softly. "I wouldn't use a gun on Piggy. A pig roast would be fun...but what I want to do is kill him with my bare fucking hands. But he is going to be sneaky, just like last time, he attacks when you don't expect it. But Piggy is a fucking coward deep down and he is fucking terrified of me. Whether he thinks so or not, I will remind him. And I'm going to kill him so slowly."

Yawning, the clown pretended to fall asleep then waved airily towards the weaponry. "That is truly fascinating. Unique and exciting, you fucking menstrual clot in a girl's locker room! Take a few torture items and then what? Think beyond that, yet? Like, what will HE be using against you? Think he has just a bat this time? I don't know or control that set of clowns, you waste of a drunken man's fart! But they aren't alone, they have their own advisor...and he enjoys this as much as I do, dearest Pollywog." Growling, Polliver took the chains, a bat with sharp glass studded through it with, a long dagger and a cattle prod.

Tickler had his make up done before Polliver sat down to do his own. Tickler picked out a black jumper that was slightly too big, that had a zipper in the front, with a wide black belt for his weapons. The jumper had a thick ruffled collar that was a blood red with matching cuffs and ankles. On the thick belt was a buckle that featured a red skeletal face. Giggling, he added crimson gloves and matching colored sneakers. Donning a red wig that gave him corkscrews all around his head like an orbit, Tickler declared himself ready. His face was white, his mouth a crimson slanted horror and his eyes were smeared blobs of blue.

Polliver smeared his whole head with the white paint. Then he made his mouth into a fearsome frown smeared in black. Two huge cavernous black holes replaced his eyes. He put on a pair orange and black dotted pants with suspenders. Smearing white paint on his bare chest, Polliver carefully wrote in black block letters. PIGGY IS YOUR NAME. DIE WITH IT. He added a black furry coat with a wide opening and no buttons so Piggy wouldn't miss the words. The jacket had both outer and inner holders for the weapons. Fingerless black gloves and steel toed black boots that had orange flames all over them completed the costume.

Shitmouth left them to their work of stealing a car and heading to the barn.

 

Sadly, he had to attend to more work.

So he had gone through town and headed down the road that eventually led out of town. Call it a hunch, Shitmouth just knew he was needed there. Sure enough, a fat man came babbling and running, Shitmouth almost mowed the fucking idiot down. The clown didn't want to have storyteller splattered all over his fine paint job and stopped just in time. "Ah, Sammy, having trouble? Can't kill anyone this way, can we? Let me help you, Sammy Gone Whammy." Sam had been a fine mess but Shitmouth took the time to get him sorted out. The useless wad of damp toilet paper on the heel of an incontinent nun didn't even know how to hot wire a van.

Luckily, Shitmouth was able to help Sam out, he just happened to know where they could get a van. And then he assisted Sam by offering advice on the best weaponry for dismembering little snot nosed brats. When Sam put the make up on, he calmed down and settled into things. Shitmouth waved off another satisfied customer and then he sighed. As much as he really wanted to head to the barn and watch the slaughter, see who won and who died, he wasn't done. Nope, something pulled him another direction. Someone else needed his help he was sure of it.

 

Shitmouth drove back towards the center of town and Damon almost sideswiped him. Cursing long and loud, Shitmouth slammed on the brakes and got out of the car. So did Alyn and Damon, both looking jovial but crazed. "Ah, let me guess, you need to find your Moon Over My Sammy? I saw him just a few minutes ago. He was desperate the poor man. Don't worry, boys, I helped him out. Got him a van and some weapons for cutting apart shit stains. Now, I guess you both need your weapons and make up. That dime store shit won't cut it, idiots! Wipe it off now. And you can forget the guns, boys. Clowns don't shoot, it isn't right. Won't happen on my watch."

Both men looked like they wanted to kill him but instead they did as they were told. As if caught up in a hated dream they cannot change. Guns were given to Shitmouth's keeping and they chose other weapons. Damon took a bull whip and the axe, which he could swing without beheading the wrong person. Alyn took a hatchet and a hammer, plus some blades. Shitmouth watched as they used the make up but declined any costumes. He pointed them in the direction that Sam had gone. Another tug from inside himself and Shitmouth was driving towards another needy soul the town urged him towards.

 

He was a bit surprised as he found himself driving into his own cul de sac and wondered who else he had missed?

It was with a wonderful spiteful joy that he spied Cat Stark storming towards her sister's home. She had parked the car near the house, but hidden from view and was wearing a very heavy coat for fall. The look on her face did not indicate that she was going for a cup of tea with Lysa. Interesting. Shitmouth knew this was the person in need of his help. The woman blinked at the bizarre car and at the clown leaning out, beckoning to her.

"Shitmouth the clown, at your service, my dear! Tonight, I am offering free weaponry and advice on the murder of those needing murdering."

Cat grimly walked over to the clown. "My son met you. I don't like your act and I do not need your assistance. I am not murdering a person, I am murdering a werewolf." Shitmouth clapped and laughed. "That is wonderful! A werewolf? I tangled with one not long ago myself and decided it was not my fucking cup of tea. But I wonder, will you see it in wolf or human form? That can make a large difference and maybe keep you alive. You need a bit of stealth, perhaps? I have some ideas that might be of interest." Cat decided to give the clown exactly three minutes and told him so. Within one minute he had her attention.

Then finally, Shitmouth was able to do one last sweep of town, just in case then he headed for the barn. 


	53. Freak Flags Flying

Petyr smiled at the newly made up clowns and put away his phone.

"Well, it seems the two most attentive mothers in town can suddenly be too busy to pick you up. Cat said she will be late tonight. What a strange coincidence, right? The town is giving the green light on slaughter tonight. I think we are about to have some clowns come crashing without any invitations. Might as well use our haunt as a weapon too, we might have just enough time to add a few last touches. Make them really work for it if they intend to kill you."

Rickon and Robin cheered and Shireen rolled her eyes. "With your luck, you two idiots would forget where you set your traps. Find yourselves upside, hanging bait for Polliver and Tickler." Hot Pie and Arya tended to agree but all of them were eager to trap their haunt, to use their own work to catch and kill Polliver and Tickler. Petyr advised and taught them as fast as he could. He truly had no way of knowing when things will happen beyond these vague feelings and signs, such as Cat and Lysa suddenly not able to pick up the kids. He felt he had enough time for a little booby trapping and took advantage of it, happy to help out.

 

He approved heartily of their chosen costumes, though some looked more clown like than others.

Arya had chosen a black body suit that covered every inch of including her head. She cut out the eyes and circled her own eyes in bright pure white so her victims can clearly see into them. Wrapping black tape around her hands, Arya had asked Petyr for some crushed glass for them. To really pack a punch and he happily searched for something and came up delighted. He had mini silver hooks that puncture and rip the skin off. Petyr assisted her in applying them carefully with a strong glue. The addition of black boots that had steel toes and small spikes attached to the heels and toes.

Hot Pie put on blue overalls and a red and black flannel shirt along with steel toed boots. Then he got creative which Petyr adored. He painted the lower half of his face a tad pinker. Using a gel, he slicked all his hair back then applied a fleshy mask to the upper half of his face. The hog snout, ears and eye holes were carefully aligned before Hot Pie added the glue. It was gruesome and very creepy, Petyr got a small chill when Hot Pie tilted his head to make sure it stayed on and he could see right. "I must say it's perfect. And it is fitting considering who you will kill while wearing it. Its the best way to kill a bad nickname I have ever seen."

The small trio had chosen to look more like actual clowns, bless their little hearts.

Petyr loved how Rickon painted a large purple grin across his face and gave his cheeks bright red circles. A tiny red dot upon his nose and his eyes became brilliant if hazy stars full of yellow and blue. He threw on a multicolored jumper and bright blue gloves and rainbow sneakers. The addition of a curly blue haired wig and he was ready. His pockets nearly bulged with all the little toys he plans to play with.

Robin's costume was even stranger and somehow perfect all at once. Fluorescent blue leg warmers, rainbow sneakers, a pink, teal and magenta colored bodysuit and red yarn wig was eye catching enough. But Robin added more of course. He cut the eyes out of the suit like Arya had. Then he painted circles of glow in the dark orange paint around his eyes. And ruined the effect by adding bright pink sunglasses but refused to see the logic of it.  

Shireen took the longest and was the most careful and quiet. She wished for no assistance at all and Petyr left her to her own tortured muse.  She made her face a smooth red then used a brilliant orange to create flames around her mouth and eyes. Then Shireen rummaged through all the costume pieces until she found red and gold striped pirate pants and blouse. She added a black leather vest that had silver spikes on the shoulders and a thick black belt with a silver skull buckle. A long wavy black wig and black boots. 

The strange looking clowns began to listen as Petyr explained to them how to use the haunt as a weapon. They moved fast, grabbing what they needed, yelling instructions and warnings to each other. For a bit they bumbled through the different fake doors and passages they had created for moving about to scare those in the main areas. Weapons and traps made it more difficult and for some time both laughter and cursing happened as the kids tried to work. Petyr despaired but rallied them and when he felt a tingle, he called to them.

"Something is telling me that our time for setting up is over. Whatever traps have been set must be ready and operational. Lights out so you get that night vision back and here is our scary lights, our scary music cued up."

 

Damon drove like a maniac and Alyn kept bouncing up and down to music that blared far too loud. "Glad Shitmouth didn't check our ride, dude! He might have taken all our dynamite!" A huge grin on his face, Damon laughed. "I wouldn't have cared. I would have just killed him. You and me both. We are gonna kill him later anyway. After we kill Sam, of course. Then we will go kill all of them. The kid clowns are at that stupid barn. That's where Shitmouth would have told Polliver and Tickler to go. And of course Shitmouth won't miss that shit. Whisper or Petyr, whoever the fuck he is right now...he will be there too. He must be who's turning the kids, so we have everyone. All in one. BAM! No more clowns, Alyn! All solved!"

"True! Maybe we should catch Sam and bring him there too. Kill them all at the same time." Alyn bit at the large swatting hand that was all over his head. Then he winced as Damon's voice boomed over the heavy metal music. "NO! The idea is to change patterns to stop all of this! I can remember that much of our talking! Don't you? We need to kill Sam then go blow them all up. Got it?" Alyn was feeling stubborn and shook his head. "Wait! We are clowns too! We have to die in the explosion or kill ourselves or leave town. Why did I list leaving town as the last thing? All I can think of is killing...we must be close to Sam or something." Damon giggled and responded, "Oh! I hope so!" His eyes were shiny and round like a child heading to his first ever circus.

Alyn leaned out the car window then yelled, "Uh, Damon? Here is a head. On the ground, just some boy's head. He must not be too far...hard to tell with this damned fog coming from the wharf. Keep driving, maybe there will be a trail of body parts." Damon slowed down a bit so they could scan for pieces of human child but found none. Far off in the distant woods, they could hear howls, they heard gunshots too. It just made them both howl and laugh, glad it wasn't them having to fight those cursed things. Much more satisfying to chase down a newly made child killer and blow up a bunch of killer clowns. They both hooted with triumph when they finally saw a white van parked half in the small private cove.

As they got out they could hear a child screaming and begging inside the van. Damon tried to crash open the back doors of the van with no real luck since they were locked. He did manage to make a hell of a dent in the metal though. Alyn had tried to open the driver's door with better luck and climbed into the back. Sam looked terribly surprised and irritated at being bothered this way. "Rudeness! I hate impolite people! If you want me to make time for you and Damon that is fine but I am very busy right now! Go away! Shoo!" Damon has managed to squeeze his bulk behind Alyn and stared at the gore covered van. Sam stood there in a black latex apron and gloves, holding a bloody cleaver. There were sharp blades of every size, some bloody and some not, scattered all over the place.

A naked young boy was spread eagle, his wrists and ankles manacled and chained. His limbs were stretched so tightly to bolts on opposite sides of a long metal rack that his arms had already dislocated. His body was covered in purple marker, the different choice cuts Sam had planned to make. Already the child was missing a thumb and most of his toes. Sobbing and screaming, the boy begged them to help him until he saw they were clowns. That just made this poor traumatized child even more panicked. Urine spread across the towels underneath his lower body and he fainted.

Sam tutted in dismay and muttered, "This one just never stops pissing himself and sobbing for his mommy! He should have thought of that before he left his boogers all over my books at the library! I am taking his nose next, once he wakes back up."

Damon gave his loony grin to Sam and shook his head. "No, I think you are done with him. Sorry, buddy. We can't let you keep killing kids, you know that right? You know what happens next, don't you?" Sam looked crestfallen then looked hopefully up at Damon. "Can I at least take his nose first?" Alyn was already trying to push past Sam to release the child. "No, that isn't a good idea, Sam. No more cutting parts off of kids." Sighing, Sam shrugged then sliced hard into Alyn's midsection with his blade. Alyn made a grunting sound and then fell down next to the kid, holding his bleeding gut. "That fucking hurt, you asshole!" Damon's fist crashed hard into Sam's head and the fat man went down, shaking the whole van.

Damon helped the boy out of the restraints and wrapped the feet and the boy's thumb stump as well as he could. "We need to drop him near someone that can get him help. Right after we deal with our Sammy boy!"

Gently, Damon carried the child into their own vehicle. "Rest here and be quiet, okay? We are going to kill the bad man. Don't be scared, me and my buddy, we are good clowns!" The boy seemed dubious of that, but he nodded and lay silent and pale as the large clown with the too big smile threw an old stinky blanket over his chilly naked body. Damon rummaged for a minute in the glove box and pulled out two things. He put one of the items in his belt. The other thing was a strong painkiller from a little baggie of goodies he hides. "I only have beer for you to wash it down with but it will make you feel better." Damon gave the boy only a small sip, just enough to wash the pill down and chugged the rest himself on his way back to the van.

Alyn was still fussing with his wound that clearly needed stitches when Damon climbed into the van. He was sitting on the still out cold Sam just in case the man had woken up. Damon grinned and knelt down to check on the deep long slash then pulled something out of his belt. Alyn howled as he heard a terrible click punch sound and felt awful pinch. Easily, Damon pinned his slighter friend down on Sam's cushy body while he used the staple gun he stole from Ramsay awhile ago to staple Alyn's wound shut. Sam woke up halfway through and Damon leaned over Alyn to punch the man into a daze. Damon finished stapling Alyn's wound then helped him to stand up. In his own way of thanks for the tender care, Alyn punched Damon's chin, hard. "Asshole! Motherfucking cocksucker! What are you...the new Ramsay? OW!" Damon smiled and patted Alyn's head. "You are welcome, buddy! You are right, I always did think I'd have made a better nurse than an animal officer."

They put Sam into the manacles he used for the boy. Damon made sure to stretch and tighten the chains until he heard Sams's arms and legs pop at the joints. Sam screamed and that put a smile on both their faces. "That's better! Now, Alyn, kindly gather those blades for us...where to start? Hmm...hey, Alyn, I call dibs on his nose!" 


	54. Sounds In The Woods

The moon loomed high above the trees, jagged white seen among the brilliant dark blue above dark green tall pines.

Unella watched it all go by, her head tilted far back, as Gregor had applied earth to her body. No difference in the rituals, there was no more worry of Gregor being a zombie, no more worries of an unborn hellspawn in her stomach, it was time to be a hunter. Howls had begun and Unella's bones and soul thrummed, she felt transformed, blessed or cursed, it didn't matter, this was what she truly was. A hunter, a predator, a killer of monsters and she gave a tiny whine of impatience to begin.

To the delight of the hunters, they heard the creatures slinking closer instead of heading towards the town for fresh human food. That would have only brought them to several traps and into the hunting ground. No, they were trying to circle for an attack and Gregor chuckled. "I heard today that Olenna has joined the little pack. That old biddy must have taken over and told them to eliminate us first, then hunt. Idiots. This won't take long then, there aren't many of them. And they are all shiny new, with no experience, only instinct driving them."

They stayed in a circle, allowing the wolves to get closer, waiting for a good target. The wolves were slightly clever enough to not attack, they circled and snarled from behind their new environment. Olenna was making sure that her point got across to the hunters that this pack will not just allow them to be hunted. That they will be attacking and having dinner upon the hunters tonight, not the townsfolk. Then once they had the three Cleganes all primed for an attack, they melded away, slinking low, waiting. After a minute of no sound at all, Gregor snorted. "Assholes. Posturing before the battle is such a fucking waste of time. Okay, they want to play, let's play."

"Lure them towards your favorite traps, stay vigilant and be careful, they are hunting for us tonight. Get them close enough to see their shape, then you kill them."

 

Sandor crept towards the edge of the ravine, he heard light shuffling of leaves a few moments ago. There was no wind at the time, sounded wrong for a small creature of the woods. However, he didn't want to waste a bullet on some coy dog so he wanted to see it's shape before shooting. His face raised just over the edge and teeth came gnashing up at his face. Pulling back fast while snarling "Asshole!" at the werewolf, he aimed and pulled the trigger. The wolf went back down with just an ear gone and Sandor snarled "Fuck you sideways!" as he knelt up to take another peek into the ravine.

The stupid thing must have slid down by accident, judging by the slick mudslide across from where Sandor was. It couldn't figure out how to get out and Sandor had it pinned. Easy peasy. Peeking down from a safer position of standing, Sandor aimed carefully at the grayish-silver furred snarling creature frantically trying to run about at the bottom of the ravine. At the very last second, he heard the rushing and spun to fire upon a red werewolf in mid air, coming for him, teeth and claws at the ready. The impact of the bullet in her gut sent the wolf skidding to the earth where she whined and tried to get back up.

He grinned and aimed for the head when he heard another sound then felt scratching that couldn't quite get through his new light, modified chain mail under his clothing. Looking down, Sandor saw that what must be the newest werewolf had climbed quickly up the ravine, seeing her trick did not work. The wolf was trying to claw at him, trying to turn him and he just laughed as he kicked her in the head. She squirmed on the ground, pawing at her head, keening while Sandor turned to deal with the gut shot wolf. The red wolf had managed to drag herself away and Sandor sighed. Now he has to follow the blood trail and make sure the wolf died. First he had to kill the runt. Turning, he swore, that one had taken off to.

Sandor decided to go after the gut shot one, make sure it was truly a bad wound, make sure she was dead. The red one is a fierce fighter, the newer greyish silver one is clearly too weak or new still for any real damage. She will probably try and stalk him and Sandor can easily kill her then. Keeping his eyes upon the crushed earth, the blood staining into the dirt and leaves, Sandor tracked her. He was pretty sure it was Ygritte that he was tracking and he wondered who was the runt. Then he recalled hearing that Margeary Tyrell had gone missing and he knew. Sandor smirked, he had always thought she was such a stuck up little cunt.

He remembers once while he was working on the Tyrell's extremely lush and chemically made lawn, her walking by with her friends. It was years ago, she was with her little prom-committee-cheerleader-mean-girl-team buddies. And the girls were all making fun of him, she joined right in, her only action otherwise was to tell them to lower their voices "lest the hired help hears us." Sandor was glad that he would get the chance to be the one to take her down and he almost hummed a little tune as he followed the blood. It got thicker here and there and he was nearly positive Ygritte was gut shot and already dying. But Gregor drilled into their heads not to ever assume and allow a wounded monster to get away if possible.

There was no real threat from Margeary, she was too new and timid to hurt him or sneak up on him. She can follow and if she tries to attack, Sandor will kill her. He will find his wounded wolf and end her. Then he will catch Margeary and make sure to smile into her eyes as he puts a bullet into her brain. And then Sandor heard a sound that froze him. It seemed to freeze the timid wolf stalking him by the sudden stillness of the crispy leaves the stupid clumsy wolf kept stepping on. Then Margeary was gone, with one frantic crashing sound, she headed for the sound like a beacon calling to her.

 

Gregor had been playing with Olenna, trying to get the old bitch to come close enough, but she was crafty. She was also too bold, it was clear she was hoping to bite him, to turn him. The bitch would sneak and leap from the shadows in every direction, faster than she should be at her age. Several times, Gregor whacked her away, even shot her once, only getting the shoulder because of the awkward angle her teeth tried to pull his opposite arm in. His clothes were ripped, but his skin was protected. It did not stop the pain of the bites however and he was starting to get pissed.

"You pompous old biddy! Trying to turn the hunters so we will be your strength for your pack? I'd rather you ripped my throat out, in fact, try it! Please. I am begging you to give it your best, Olenna, you old wrinkled dried up cunt! Come on, sweetheart, what's wrong? Scared of me? Don't you have some extra fucking instructions for me, bitch? You were one of the worst to work for, you know. You paid well but you were such a rigid cunt about every little damned thing. Control freak. I heard your kids were trying to get you into a nursing home. Now you have a new furry family and you want to advance? Fuck you, honey."

The bitch snarled deeply and she was coming, he could practically hear her writhing her haunches, ready to leap. Gregor aimed and his finger rested upon the trigger, hoping to blow the ancient brains out when the sound came. They both went still and their heads tilted upwards, just listening, trying to process why this sound was here, in such a wrong place for it. Then Gregor sighed as he heard Olenna whine as if in conflict with her own self, then dart away towards the sound. Stretching briefly, Gregor began to head for the sound without the frantic struggle that the old biddy had.

 

Unella had been allowing the overconfident wolf to follow her towards her spike pit. He got closer, closer but never revealed himself more than small flashes of silver among the foliage. Smirking, she thought of how easy and eager these younger wolves were to hunt and almost burst out laughing at one point. He had suddenly made scuffling sounds that ruffled the leaves and it was clear the dumb thing slid or tripped. She swung up her arrow and took a shot, but her own struggle not to laugh cost her the kill. Instead, she heard a bark of shock as the arrow must have only grazed it and the startled, hurt wolf went deeper into the woods.

Silently cursing, Unella moved a bit slower, circling a new way towards the spiked pit and after a few moments, her stalker was back. They were almost at the pit, he was so close to her now that she might even be able to get a shot soon. Then the sound rose above the sky, it was sudden and shocking and both of them went into statue mode, staring into the sky as if the answers were up there. The wolf shifted, it sniffed and it was running towards the call, the sweet bloody promise in it. Unella found herself rushing, not after the wolf, but a different, quicker way towards the sound. 

 

"DADA? AWYN? AHHHHHHHH! WAAAAAAAAAAHHH! DAAAAADAAAAA!"

 

Gregor spoke into the little buds he made Sandor and Unella wear during this hunt. This was a recent gadget he bought, after years of the two complaining over walkie talkies. Now his voice would thunder into their ears, which was unsettling and sometimes painful if he was upset or excited. "New bait! They are all going for that fucking baby. Head there, take them down while they have their little feast. They are all new baby wolves, they can't resist a first true taste of human meat. Let them get their treat and take them down. Now!"

Unella couldn't help herself, it was too repulsive but she tried to hide that in her tone. Her voice came out breathless, as she was already rushing for the location of this child. "Gregor, it's a human baby! I am going to save the child and kill the wolves." Sandor flinched at the tone of Gregor's voice even though it wasn't addressing him. He nearly tripped over a root as he ran forward. He had planned on trying to save the kid himself, he wasn't a monster, but he wasn't dumb enough to tell Gregor that. "Woman, I gave you an order! If those wolves don't eat the baby, I will! Hear me? You save that kid and I will eat it, bite by bite and make you watch me do it."

Unella's voice was strained but she responded with as much submission and respect as she could manage. "I hear you, Gregor. If I don't let the wolves eat the child, you will eat the child. I have been given an order and will follow it."  Both Gregor and Sandor questioned every bit of that but it had to be good enough for now. "Good. Both of you, get there as fast as you can, take out as many as you can." Sandor continued heading in the direction of the child and Unella began to hunt the wolves heading for the child.

She rushed towards the sounds of Lommy, crashing in his hurry for fresh dripping meat. He is new, starving and has only had one taste of human so far. Roose had reported each possible werewolf to them and Unella was sad to know who was she was chasing. It took her until now to figure out who she was hunting. She heard about Lommy's sad fate and she thought of his father, talking about protecting his son. It was heartbreaking and Unella wished she was able to have a heart but out here she cannot. Unella had to kill Lommy to protect everyone in town. That baby was part of town and Gregor has tried to change that. She won't put up with it. That baby must be saved, one way or another.

 

Little Sam was cold, he was soaked, mud and urine, he was thirsty, hungry,lost and afraid of the dark. He was missing his father, even though he dimly remembers being scared of his father earlier. He missed Alyn and the big mystery house he lived in. Sam didn't like the feeling or the touch of the woods. Trees were harsh and cold, the ground was mushy then it would trip him or make him wet.

He woke up to find things crawling, some biting on him and it took some time to yell and wipe the bugs off before he could stand up. Sam got straight to the business of calling out for his father, for Alyn and he added some wailing since the trees looked evil when Sam saw them at a strange angle. Even after he moved his head a different way, everything was bad, was scary and he felt like he was in one of daddy's bad stories.

Sometimes when daddy would have his bad times, he would get scary. Waking up Sam late at night and whispering these stories to make cry. Sam loved his daddy but he didn't like bad story daddy and he wondered if bad story daddy was out tonight. This was a new place, it was a no light place, a bad tree story place and Sam wailed over it as he tried to stumble his way out of it.


	55. Pie

Lysa heard the knock at her door and her head jerked up sharply. How, on a fall night did Lysa not hear someone coming up the driveway? Her senses are heightened and tonight the adrenaline thrums in her ears. It was a delicious pain that wouldn't end until Robin was tucked and locked away.

Then Lysa can go hunt, maybe take out a hunter if she was lucky. That was a funny thought because Lysa was always smart enough to evade those Cleganes, those evil terrible monsters! It was her job to keep the wolves a secret and it was the one job that Lysa always did well. As distasteful as it may be, Lysa searches nightly for any dead. She must do the dreadful butchering of the dead all alone then she brings the best parts of the meat to her home. It was the one way that Lysa could share her secret with her beloved Robin. The meat will make him stronger and someday, when he is truly ready, Lysa will turn him.

He will rule over a magnificent pack of his own. Lysa just hasn't found anyone worthy of being in his pack. They all tend to die every season. Or turn the wrong ones, like this season, all these disgusting girls and they all did it on purpose, to get her son! She isn't stupid, oh no, those females were sniffing about. Well, they can just forget any assistance from her in their useless battle against the hunters. Lysa was determined that only when a wolf survives several seasons will they truly be worthy to serve under her son. Sadly, she was sure that Robin will want to turn his cousin and their little tomboy friend.

The knock was insistent and Lysa warily headed for the door. She wasn't one to invite anyone over often and her son's friends were already with him. It was with some surprise that she saw her sister standing on her steps. "Cat? Is something wrong, dear?" Cat shrugged then said in a despondent voice, "Petyr called the house to tell me the children would be staying late tonight. My cell phone died and I just...needed to get out anyway...so I just sort of came here. Please...I owe you an apology, you have helped me out so much recently and I owe you for it. I have time until I have to get the kids and I can't take another minute of trying to connect with Bran. I didn't bake this, but I went to your favorite bakery for it. My way of saying I'm sorry. A quick piece of pie and then I'll leave you to your peace until I drop your son off to you?"

Lysa sighed and rolled her eyes but it was gratifying to see her sister humble. It wasn't very often in their lives that its happened, but Lysa cherishes the moments when her sister is broken and needs to grovel.  "Fine, come in for a few minutes. Not long though and I don't like the fact that Petyr called only you. Robin is MY son, not yours." Cat shrugged as she went into the kitchen and unbuttoned her new light fall coat then put the pie onto the counter. Lysa got small plates, a ceramic knife and two forks, setting them on the table. Cat grabbed two wine coolers and set them down. "We should drink these rather than tea. Might make our conversations lighter." Lysa grimaced at the bad joke and then gave her attention to her pie.

It was key lime pie, one of Lysa's favorite things to eat. She baked well enough but for some reason wasn't able to recreate this particular dish. Cat could and that had driven Lysa crazy. The fact that it was from the bakery because Cat lost even her most basic talents made it taste better than it ever has before. Lysa took a bite and watched with a raised eyebrow as Cat chugged her wine cooler then got another. "Hey, anymore than two of those and you cannot pick up the children! That is enough of that, missy. That is your last one, hear me?"

With a crooked smile, Cat nodded. "I promise no more than two drinks. I'm sorry, I have been so blinded, so lost in the worry of my family. So bowed by grief that I just...let things slip, I guess. And became overwhelmed. Then Bran...you understand, don't you?" Lysa nodded even though she hadn't the faintest idea of what her batshit sister was talking about. Her instincts were screaming to run and join the pack, she could hear the howling, they found prey. Lysa longed to be out there with them not listening to her babbling sister having a nervous breakdown. At a very inconvenient time as usual.

Lysa watched in shock as her sister pulled out a small make up case that looked a hundred years old. Cat thumped it onto the polished wood table and started to unlatch it. It creaked as the top swung open and actual moths flew out of it. Small glass vials held old make up, powders, lotions and a cracked yellow mirror embedded in the inside of the top. Dusty folds of rotted velvet padded the box and released a light sour smell that made Lysa gag. She knew that smell, it was old blood, why would old blood be in an ancient make up case? More importantly to Lysa was how dare Cat be so rude? 

"Cat! Have you lost your mind? Get that filthy thing off my table, what are you doing? Use the bathroom if you wish to primp like a civilized human being if you please!"

Instead of apologizing, stopping her behavior or at least helping Lysa catch and kill the damned moths, Cat began to fiddle with the stupid bottles in the case. "I'm sorry, I really am, Lysa. About the moths, I know how you feel about bugs or anything making your house less than perfect. It was rude of me and so is this, I suppose. Of course, there will be a huge mess here soon. But I promise you, I'll make sure that your son sees none of it and knows about none of it."

Lysa sneered and wheezed a bit as she reached up to swat at the disgusting thing fluttering about her. Clearing her throat, Lysa smashed the bug and turned to stare at Cat. "Why are you acting so crazy? What is your problem and what the hell are you talking about? My son? What about my son knowing things? Cat..." That is when the burning in her mouth, throat and stomach began. She grabbed the chair but knocked it and herself over. Writhing on the tile floors while her blood burned, Lysa watched as Cat calmly applied clown make up at the table.

"Don't worry, silver bits in your pie probably won't kill you, just incapacitate you for a bit. Long enough for me to finish my make up, dearest sister. I want to share a secret with you since I know yours. Do you remember how I'd always forget Jon? There was a bigger thing once, very big and I just well, I forgot it. The town meant for me to forget it for a long time and now I remember. Too late for any real good in my opinion, but I finally remember. When we were in high school, do you remember Walder Frey, our child librarian? You were so jealous of how Petyr and I were picked as a team to work for the old lecherous creep. You would have never dealt with what Petyr and I had to see, had to go through! We saw what that monster was doing! He was raping and dismembering some of the children at the library. After terrorizing them with stories! And that is around the same time we used to see the clown."

Cat's eyes turned dreamy and yet lunatic all at once, her wrinkles smoothed out by the gray paint. Everything just became pale gray, her face and her hands, her neck and ears. The bright red hair was unsettling upon it and the eyes seem to blaze with a very cold light. Lysa managed to reach a furry hand up, claws digging into the wood, trying to pull herself, her body forcing the change to reject the silver. Her sister had never looked or acted like this, Lysa couldn't understand what was happening but she was listening while her rage and strength grew slowly. What the hell do clowns and a child killer have to do with Cat's ultimate betrayal? Cat ignored the changing form struggling close to her and continued to speak. Lysa was almost knee level now and she could see Cat watching her through the case mirror.

The cracked aged mirror gave Lysa a terrifying view of her sister, or what used to be Cat. Lysa wasn't so sure anymore. Both sides of Cat's face were gray in the mirror, but one side looked like her younger, lovely self from their teen years. Back when Lysa seemed to have the acne and braces for both of them. The other side of the mirror showed a vengeful statue, an unforgiving stone heart creature that wants only a good enough reason to kill.

Lysa whined and cleared her throat enough to speak. "What kind of monster did you become, Cat? You bitch. You couldn't even let me have a unique thing like being a werewolf! What the fuck did you become, I am sure it is much better as always?" Lysa snarled as she stood up, swaying, hunched, but glaring at the back of her traitorous sister's head. Claws extended and she thought about swiping Cat's head off.

"If you attack me, I can't answer your question and I can't finish my story. Don't you want to hear it? I will hear yours afterwards if you want to. That way we are square on our secrets and then we can see who will kill the other. It's only fair. Besides, you aren't at a good health yet. Still too weak, give yourself some wine cooler. It's from your own fridge, I haven't tampered with it. Been drinking mine, my second one, of course." Cat smiled in a far too pleasant yet chilly way and she finally faced her sister. "Oh, Lysa, I will admit that I love recalling it now. "

Lysa sunk back into her chair, not yet able to fight and submitted to hearing whatever crazy, insignificant story her insane sister had. Cat's eyes were far away, lost in the past and her voice was like a tired woman recalling the magic of her prom night.

"The clown helped us, gave us weapons and plans. We took our time killing that old bastard, it was slow and it was a true cathartic experience! That same night, the Martells and the Targaryens family went crazy, attacking each other. It was a slaughter, a huge one and it thrummed in my bones. I loved every second of it, Lysa. I bet you feel the same about being a werewolf. At least you get to do this every fall, for that I am truly jealous, Lysa. That is the one thing that you've always wanted, for me to admire you, be jealous of you, be lower than you. Well, I am truly jealous, write that in your fucking journal and mark the date in block letters. Because I only got to be a clown once. And this might be my last time so I need to really make the most of it. That repulsive Shitmouth will figure out that he accidentally let me walk off with his case soon enough. So, go on, tell me your story now, dear. We must hurry this along. Your story and then you will feel better and we shall have a battle before Shitmouth or our children show up."  

Lysa wasn't able to fully form yet and she still burned but a bit less. Her claws dug into the table and she no longer correctly fit the kitchen chair but she forced herself to stillness. As long as her insane creepy clown sister was willing to talk, Lysa could heal and form quicker. She would enjoy a chance to tell her sister of her woes in full, what she sacrificed. She could have turned Cat but didn't! And how it wasn't her fault that Sansa was turned, it wasn't her fault that Sansa was delicious! Lysa opened her mouth and Cat thrust a long ancient pure silver hat pin into Lysa's right eye. 

Lysa screamed in agony, clutching at her socket, the eye was attached to the damned hairpin as if it were a gruesome kabob.  Cat's deadpan voice cut through Lysa's howling. "I just remembered. I don't give a shit about anything you have to say. Does that hurt, Lysa? I lost most of my family to your furry fucking secret, sister. All our lives you have sabotaged me." Cat drew out the lovely silver dagger Varys had lent her and went for the kill.

 


	56. Monsters Only Night

When Polliver and Tickler parked and headed for the barn, they were full of narcotics, adrenaline and a yearning lustful need for violence. Polliver kept having to shush Tickler, the man couldn't seem to stop a small high pitched giggle. It was a bit unnerving after hearing it for hours since Tickler put on his clown make up. Not that it would matter if they were loud or not, the barn was loud itself. Out of the spaces in the boarded up windows came pulsing lights, jagged lightening and the sounds of clanking chains, wailing ghosts and tortured souls begging, warning, luring.

"It's open already?" Tickler winced when Polliver hit him. "Yeah, asshole. It's open. Special, just for us. You don't think Whisper is fucking in there with them? He probably set this whole thing up for this fight. Whisper should fucking die tonight to, don't you think? I want anyone we see in here to die. They went through such trouble to make this for us. I say we appreciate it and go inside, give them the playtime they want." Tickler giggled. "I want to murder every fucking person I see. But if we can, we catch Arya and Hot Pie. That needs to go real slow, that is going to be the fucking highlight, the masterpiece!"

Another whack and Polliver sneered as Ticker glared at him. "What are you, a fucking artist now? Just remember...being a clown, how this feels, how it is? It's that way for them too. Everyone in that barn is a clown too. Some of them are shiny new but not Piggy, he will be all ready. Arya may be new at it, but the girl is a fighter. They are waiting for us, they want it as badly as we do. They want us caught, they want to torture and murder us. Don't let your guard down, don't forget that we are hunting predators in there. They aren't just fucking birthday clowns in there, dude. Monsters only, tonight, Tickler."

They both stopped as the door ahead slowly opened. The strangest multi colored clown stood there.

Tickler tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "I don't get what the fuck that is. It's not Piggy or the bitch. Can we just kill it?" Polliver muttered, "He looks like a bad acid trip. He's dabbing. The little prick is dancing. Now he's twerking at us, okay, let's go kill him." As they headed towards the dancing rainbow menace, the lithe form reached into the darkness and grabbed something. This made Tickler and Polliver start to rush forward but Robin already had turned back around. He launched a weapon from each hand that splattered into the stunned faces of the men.

Tickler shrieked as the cold wet mush hit full into his face, eyes and mouth. His eyes stung but his mouth was just dry and incredibly sugary, sticky. Polliver had not hollered but he flinched before he figured out it was a fucking cream pie. The little asshole! He shoved Tickler hard and grumbled, "It's a fucking cream pie gag, idiot! Kill that little shit right now!" Roaring, Tickler wiped his face and stormed towards the now clapping and cavorting clown. The clown tilted his glasses at them and ran inside the sudden dark doorway. Polliver grabbed Tickler's shoulder just as the man was about to rush after the enraging kid.

"No! The rainbow fucktard is bait! They are waiting for us to run inside in a rage not thinking...then they trap us. Get that penlight out, watch for traps with every step. Don't run, keep your cool in here, yeah?"

 

Tickler nodded and both entered cautiously into the inky blackness of the entrance of the haunted barn. They couldn't see a thing but they could hear the spooky soundtrack all around them. Using the flashlights, they caught the beam of light on a wire that they might have walked into. Carefully, Polliver walked until he saw the curtains and foam forced all to go into a corridor to the left.

Slowly, Polliver went into the corridor, flashlight and hand sweeping the fake walls close to either side of him, searching for trap doors or windows. Tickler was right behind him, watching every direction at once, tensed for an attack. Ahead of them they heard laughter, some kid was cheerful as fuck and Polliver wondered if it was their rainbow clown. They continued down the hall for another moment then saw the end of it coming up. A sort of red glow came from ahead and there was that irritating rainbow clown. He laughed and waved, causing Tickler to groan and curse. Polliver grinned and waved back.

Except when he waved, he threw one of his best and lightest of blades. 

It caught the clown in the right arm and the boy gave a yip of pain. Now it was Polliver who was laughing as the rainbow clown ran off with his new bloodstain. Tickler giggled and they shared a look of camaraderie. That's when a small window next to Tickler fell down with a thunk and fire emitted. Polliver leaped out of the way but Tickler's wig caught fire. The man tossed his wig off as he hit the ground, pawing at his face. His left cheek and most of his chin were blistered and some parts were charred. "Fuck! Fuck! Fucking HURTS!" Polliver cursed and kept an eye around them.

The window had closed and the redhead he glimpsed wielding the blowtorch was gone.

"Get up! Sorry it hurts, get up so we can get revenge. You stay here complaining and you will be fried crispy all the way through, Tickler! You want Arya to come and take you down while you lay there, crying like a little bitch? Huh?" That got the wounded man staggering to his feet. He fed his anger with the pain and Polliver gave him five oxycontin pills to chew and dry swallow. "Take this and let's go. Think of taking those bitches down. It was some little red hair bitch that burnt you and I bet Arya told her to do that! Let's get them and I swear we will make them squeal and cry, grovel at our feet like we are gods before we let them die!"

That moving speech spurred Tickler back into action. He roared in rage and adrenaline as the cream pie mixed disgustingly with the crushed bitter powder in his mouth but he tried to keep swallowing down both. Filling with a golden cloud of painkiller that didn't actually help the searing agony but helped him ignore it better, Tickler stormed past Polliver. "Where are you, little cunts? Daddy's home and everyone needs a fucking spanking!" The laughter of a young girl floated back to him from beyond the walls.

From the room ahead came Arya's voice. "Come and get me then, asshole. See if you can fucking spank me. I bet I'll gut you before you even get a chance for your sick role play rape games."

Tickler drooled slightly and used a cracked tongue to lick the cream, paint and powder all along his thick lips. "Baby, challenge is fucking accepted. Come out and play with me, bitches." Ignoring Polliver's words of caution, Tickler stomped forward, giggling, heading into the room ahead. Polliver waited until Ticker was in the room before inching forward. He saw no trap, his friend didn't start screaming or disappear from view. Instead he just heard giggling and Tickler say, "You guys really did this up nice, sorry to mess it up with your corpses. Where are you, ladies? Here I am, ready for you!"

 

Polliver heard a strange sound as he was about to enter the room then everything went black for him. He had only seen a glimpse of the heavy black curtain that came down over the opening of the room. Putting his back to the wall, he held his blades ready as he cast the light about cautiously. The light swept about and caught only tiny flashes of shadows, possibly a foot. Polliver tried to see if it was indeed a foot he just saw, like a boot similar to his own, maybe? Then there was rustling, faintly heard through the spooky music, kind of like Tickler's screeching from beyond the curtain. There was a crackling sound then Polliver was on the ground, electricity causing him to flop like a fish.

A boot kicked him hard in the head, causing the world to go fuzzy and far away. Polliver came to life roaring as smaller yellow lights came on to illuminate a hideous parody of a hog standing over him. "PIGGY!" Struggling to sweep out the legs or at least kick at him, Polliver was dizzily refusing to lay there. With a snort, the hog took one step back, allowing Polliver to try and push himself to his feet. Another snort, a very dismissive one came and Piggy dared to turn his back and just amble off. Polliver cursed and staggered after him. He struggled to pull out his own cattle prod to shove up the bastard's ass and make Piggy light up like a damned holiday ornament tree topper!

Just as Polliver was close enough to swing out his prod, hoping to put a spark into Piggy's step, he heard a new sound. A sliding chain sort of sound and Piggy's snorting laughter. Pain exploded into Polliver at the same time he turned to face the strange sound. A meat hook, curved and not a prop, no, sharp and clean sank into the meat of Polliver's left shoulder. Polliver's head went up as he screamed and he saw the rack, he saw the different chains. He saw the one attached to him could continue to roll to other areas. They were hooking him up like cattle to be gutted and butchered. Fuck. Polliver tried to yank the hook out and couldn't. Another sound and this time Polliver moved faster, in spite of the metal in his shoulder. A hook grazed past his right arm, leaving a nasty gash.

He heard laughter and saw that damned rainbow clown standing nearby, controlling a panel board. "You little fucker! I am not a fish, stop fucking hooking me! My problem is with Piggy, let him come at me like a real man! Piggy, you are hiding behind a little boy clown, you fucking coward! You put on a costume, shock me once then let little kids do the real dirty work, huh? Why? Scared of what I might do to you, boy? Piggy, you have no idea what I will do to you! Do you want me to show you on these little brats first? You that much of a coward you'll let me murder every kid in here just to reach you?" A shadow released the gruesome hog man that ambled forward. 

"I'm not a coward anymore, Polliver. You know that, don't you? No, you haven't figured it out yet maybe. That's okay. You will. Okay, Robin, let's get him into the special butchery I made for him." The blade that Polliver had secretly pulled and launched at the rainbow missed. The clown with a bright pink cloth wrapped around his previous stab wound from Polliver, stuck his tongue out at him. "Stop throwing blades at me, it's rude!" Before Polliver could respond to that nonsense, he was dragged by the hook in his shoulder. He screamed in pain and fury, tried to grab the thick metal and yank but he had no choice but use his feet in the same direction as the hook on its merciless track. Following Piggy, trying to move with the speed of the chain, Polliver entered a small room with it's own pulsing glow of grisly crimson.

 

Tickler couldn't be concerned with wherever the fuck Polliver had fucked off to. He had his own issues, some very serious ones. When he first entered the room, it wasn't too upsetting or earth shattering. Seemed like a small room with all black walls and flooring. There were some light streaks of spray paint all over the walls, but Tickler couldn't make out what it said. Tickler was smiling but he was concerned that he was the only one in the room. Turning slightly, he saw the doorway was gone and so was Polliver. He called out again to the girls and Arya's voice boomed from nowhere. "You don't need Polliver to help you, do you? I mean, you didn't need him to help you last time, did you? Are you ready for me, Tickler?"

"Bitch, you know I am ready for you. Hard as a rock. This time when I fuck you, I'm going to take you up the ass. And I am going to shoot my load into you as you die with my hands squeezing your throat. How does that sound for you, Arya, honey?" Mocking laughter filled the room and Tickler growled, already reaching for his own hidden weaponry. "That sounds great, Tickler. Really. But I have a better idea. How about this time we really switch things up? How about this time I fuck you?" The room plunged into pure darkness and the sound of the music didn't hide Polliver's screams nearby. It did however, cover up the sound of Arya entering the room. Tickler found he could see only one thing and that had his full attention for a moment.

The faded paint on the walls were brilliant now in the dark, glowing a single smeared word at him. RAPIST. Over and over the walls, this one slur seemed to attack him at every turn of his eyes. There was nothing else he could see but the accusation and Tickler screamed in rage. A sound, the smallest of rustles and before Tickler registered fully that he was no longer alone, the pain began. Small fists somehow not only packed a punch but ripped his skin, hard kicks punctured into his legs and stomach, one hard rip up his back. Tickler began to try and fight back, to defend himself the best he could. Every weapon he pulled was kicked away, each move somehow anticipated.

Once he got lucky and managed to barrel straight into her. Tickler crowed and roared, excited to finally have that bitch in his grip. But he didn't, his few non broken fingers couldn't get a grasp, slipping off the invisible fabric. He tried to head butt her and then bite through the material but he chipped a tooth on something not human at all. Leaving some of his tooth on what he determined were Arya's night vision goggles, Tickler fell back as her glass rimmed fist smashed into his throat. He fell down, gagging, trying to kick to keep Arya at bay. He heard her mocking laughter as she circled him and Tickler tried to get his air back. If he could just breathe, he could track where she was and rush her. Knock her down, get the goggles off her. 

Tickler forced himself to rise above his own whining tortured breathing and get to a crouch. His head tilted, he listened as Arya laughed, waiting for her to be in front of him again. Except there wasn't just the sounds of music and Arya's laughter, he heard another sound. Behind him, a few inches to his right, he could hear breathing, hushed breathing of someone trying to not laugh. Might be that little girl and wouldn't that be grand? Arya would give herself up if she thought it would make Tickler spare the little girl. Not that he would, he has never raped anyone that young before but he is always up for new things.

Without any warning, Tickler launched himself towards the breathing rather than the laughter. The laughter only increased as Tickler was met with not a warm, shrieking pile of little bitch but with a bat to the damned head. It sounded like the crack of a walnut and Tickler saw the word rapist explode everywhere like wet paint then everything went underwater. He tried hard to pull his head over the waves but he couldn't. Wavy lines of spray paint slid around him as he felt hands dragging him, stretching him and that fucking laughter times two.

 

Shireen skirted through the hidden passageways to avoid Petyr and headed out to fresher air. She breathed deeply of the fall night air, just needing a small break. Rickon will assist Arya with Tickler and Robin was enjoying himself helping Hot Pie with Polliver. Since both men were caught, Shireen felt safe in leaving for awhile. Murder didn't bother her in the least but the girl had no real taste for torture and left that to others to enjoy. Smiling up at the moon, the red haired pirate wandered the field next to the barn. The wind felt wonderful as it dried up the sweat collected inside the building and Shireen lifted her arms as if to invite the weather inside of her.

Shitmouth made no sound as he headed for the pretty pirate clown twirling like a carefree little girl. He leaned against the barn trying to decide what he wanted to do more. Jerk off while watching the little clown girl play in the weather or go inside to watch the bloodbath with Petyr. The clown pirate stopped spinning and saw Shitmouth. Smiling, she skipped on over and leaned next to him, looking up at him with a flirtatious flutter of her eyes. "I know you. Are you going to try to jerk off on me or rape me? Going to try and beat or kill me?"

He chuckled and winked. "If you'll let me then I'll jerk off on you, but don't you want to be inside joining the fun? How will you ever grow into a strong killer clown if you don't?" Shireen gave a girlish giggle and nodded. "True. But for one thing." Shitmouth was already cursing as the shining cutlass gutted him. "I was already a killer before I became a clown. I will not allow myself to be abused, Shitmouth." Shireen watched as the clown sank down and tried to scoop his intestines back into himself. With a small laugh, Shireen settled down cross legged nearby to watch Shitmouth die.


	57. Come At Me, Bro

Unella slung her bow over her shoulder and ran, leaping over rocks, sliding down small hills, trying to cut off Lommy. She has switched to her rifle, no more playing around. No one is eating that child if Unella can help it. And if she has to face down Gregor, truly challenge him, even if it's as a hunter in front of others, human or monster, it doesn't matter. She will do it and never mind how the thought of it makes her want to vomit. A woman can only take so much. This is beyond what is tolerable and Unella flew on wings of panicky resolve.

The wolf came streaking below a small overhang and Unella's rifle cracked through the air. Lommy howled as he fell, snout slamming hard into the dirt and leaves, his legs still trying to run, digging furrows through the brown earth. Unella climbed down from the overhang and aimed for the sad eye peering up at her. "I am so sorry for all that has happened to you. Rest now, Lommy." It was fast and she only waited long enough to see his form start to turn before rushing on. Another child was still out there and this was a very young vulnerable one. Someone had to help, someone had to make sure this child had a chance.

 

Sam was very done with all of this.

He tried to think of why the forest was so scary. His parents always say to think things through but Sam is scared, wet and hungry. It is very hard but pictures came to his overwrought mind. Being on daddy's shoulders or on mommy's back while they hiked, winding paths and the woods were so pretty! Holding mommy's hand while they walked through trees and splashed in tiny rivers in red rubber boots, it was fun. Daddy helping him climb on rocks, letting him jump off into safe arms, but feeling like a superhero. Sam likes the woods, yes. When there is sun and a nice mommy or nice daddy.

Now his daddy has gone mean and his mommy just turned into a wolf and went away. He knows to keep moving, not sure why but to keep still is bad unless he is hiding. But Sam did that hiding thing and look what happened! It got darker and now wolves howl. They are getting closer and Sam is afraid that his mommy might eat him. He is afraid is daddy might find him and do bad things. And he opens his mouth and screams for mommy and daddy anyway. Because even if daddy does mean stuff or mommy bites him up, they are still Sam's parents and he loves them.

Sam fell down and decided he was done with the falling thing. He staggered up and kicked the thick root that has tripped him and yelled at it while waving chubby fists. He heard growling and then he noticed the shiny sticky red coating on the roots. It was on his hands now too and the dirt. Sam saw the bloody, dying red wolf, she was foaming, drooling, blood stained teeth and pulling herself slowly. A last meal and Sam thought of that Little Red Riding Hood story the bad daddy told him. The large clever wolf ate the grandmother bite by bite while she screamed. Then the wolf did a very bad thing to the poor girl before he ate her from toes to her head.

He emitted a scream worthy of any banshee, it caused the sensitive ears of the wolf terrible pain. The wolf whined and swiped her paws over her ears. Sam picked up a stick that was almost his own size, struggled with it then brought it down upon the head of the bad wolf before it could eat him bite by bite. Wounded and startled by the painful noise, Ygritte couldn't move away in time from the repeated blows. So much blood lost already, her organs had already begun the process of shutting down. Sam's seven blows, though given from a toddler, they were just hard enough and hit just the right places.

Throwing the stick down, Sam burst into tears and looked at the limp wolf that did something really scary. It didn't get up and try to eat him, no, it started to lose it's fur and turn into a person. It was a someone, used to be a lady and her head was all wrong and Sam shut his eyes tightly. He staggered and fell to his hands and knees over that same mean bad root. Slamming tiny fists upon it, Sam scurried up the hill past it and he started to roll down it, faster and faster. He grabbed a tree root and hung there. Sam worried if it was part of the mean root, if it was, it will probably make him let go.

He heard cursing, he heard a man, he sounded amazed, amused, scared and intense. Sam didn't care, it was a real person and he started to scream for help. "Yeah, shut up! I'm coming for you, just hang on tight. Hush, stop that yelling or the other wolves will show up and so will my brother!" The words didn't matter, the large hand that grabbed his suspenders and yanked him into the air, that mattered. Sam found himself eye to scarred eye with a giant. Not a man, not a daddy or mommy or an Alyn, this was a giant. How did Sam land in one of his daddy's stories?

Dark woods, trees that hurt you, wolves to eat you and giants. Daddy told Sam about how Jack climbed high to the giant world. And a giant ate him, roasted him on a spit, turning him until his skin crackled. Jack was eaten in three bites and screamed until all that was left was his head. The giant kept the head to give to his son who used human heads for marbles! Sam screamed into the giant scarred face, he geared for war.

A large hand slapped down hard over his mouth. "Hey! No more screaming! I am Sandor. I am a monster hunter, I kill wolves. You just finished one of my wounded wolves off! How did you do that, you little bugger? Damn. Can't let anyone eat you, you are a little tough guy. Okay, no more screaming. Right?"

The hand moved and Sam didn't scream. He understood that the giant didn't want him eaten. He got that the Sandor giant wanted to help him and Sam was good with that. "Hi. Sam. Gisan." Nodding, Sandor seemed to be fine with the response. Puffing up with pride at saying "Giant Sandor" correctly, Sam allowed the man to stick him under his arm like a football and he held tight to the muscular arm as he watched the ground rush by. The ground trembled under the sound of the giant running and Sam tried to mutter, "Fee, fi, fo, fum"

 

Sandor had no idea why the boy was making a "Fffffeeefffiiiiooooofffffuuuuummmm" sound but it wasn't loud. Sandor knew that the truck wasn't that far from here. He could toss the kid in, fly and dump the boy in the first yard he saw then head back. Problem solved and he doesn't have to watch Unella push Gregor too far. And Sandor won't have to live with the trauma of a dead toddler. Whether by wolves or Gregor, Sandor has enough nightmares, thank you very much. He doesn't need to add a new one, dammit. 

He was impressed with the little shit. That kid smashed the hell out of Ygritte's head. Strange name that, Sam Gisan, but Sandor really didn't care who he was. All that mattered was getting the kid out of here before someone or something eats him. Sam seemed to understand not to scream anymore and that Sandor was trying to help him. Sandor was focused, he was full of hope for once in his fucking life again and as always, something fucks shit up for him. Luckily, the boy caught sight of the wolf that decided hunger was greater than skill.

"WOOF! WOOF!"

Sandor clearly understood the boy was yelling wolf, then the rest of it was garbled. He was sure the boy was trying to say something about red or hood. No time to analyze it, Margeary was nearly upon them. Sandor has never trained to defend a small bag of squirming flesh under his arm while dealing with a werewolf. Gregor must have forgotten those damned lessons. The worst part was as he was drawing his gun towards the rushing wolf, suddenly the little shit under his arm decided he was taking on all comers. With a war cry that echoed through the woods, the kid was shaking his fists, gnashing tiny milk teeth, ready for this next wolf.

The shot wasn't good, it knocked her down, tore the hell out of her shuddering flank but not enough. Margeary was starving, she was new and yearned, needed the meat. Having the fresh meat challenge her back was only making her snarl and try again, fuck the gun, fuck death, she has to. "Dammit, knock it off! What are you going to do, teethe on her? Be still, so I can kill her!" Sam seemed to get the basic idea of what Sandor said and filed it away with clean diapers, parents and binkies. As in all gone and move on, baby. He did go still but the kid gave Sandor a clear look with a message to fuck off. Then Sam stared straight at the fucking werewolf without a single tear in his eyes.

Sandor was grinning, he couldn't fucking help it. His arm and hip are soaked in urine, a wolf is coming at them and he is smiling like an idiot. What a fucking night. What the fuck is up with this kid? How is he laughing at a time like this because of this little shit? It didn't matter, what mattered was how in spite of his foolish grin, Sandor easily lifted his gun and shot Margeary directly in her eye, through her brain. Sam hollered in triumph as Sandor kicked at the wolf turning former prom queen. Chuckling slightly at the warrior toddler, Sandor started to jog towards the path that would eventually lead to the truck.

 

Unella ran and cursed when the sounds of the boy changed. It was a different direction and how the hell was that kid moving that fast? Also, judging by the different types of screeching, the kid was having one hell of an adventure. She swore she heard amusement, anger, frustration and even victory in that small voice. It sounded very young, but not scared anymore. Now there was silence and Unella moved even faster. In her haste to beat Gregor to the child, Unella was careless and tripped over a damned tree root. The things seemed to be out for her tonight. This was the fourth one this night that has got her.

She slid straight down the hill and found herself midway down the path towards the truck. Groaning, aching and burning, Unella thought that at least she could have just hurt her stomach instead of her entire backside. No time to think of that stuff, Unella ran up the pathway, deciding it was the quickest, easiest route. And almost got run down by Sandor carrying a child. Unella fell back onto her abused back and a root seemed to pinch her slyly. "Fuck! Oh, god, sorry, child. The boy! It's a boy and you found it!" 

Sandor and Sam both seemed to narrow their eyes at the babbling, as if Unella was the strange thing here. She gave a tiny laugh for no reason and struggled to her feet. "You are taking him to the truck? To get out?" Sandor nodded and Sam gave the woman a smile, waving a blood stained tiny hand at her. They burst past her and even though only Sandor was running, the boy was pedaling those chubby legs as if to give assistance. Unella smiled and watched them go by. Her silly smile dissolved when an ancient wolf came flying out of the woods. The smile was totally gone when Unella saw Gregor right behind it.

Both looked past her and saw Sandor running with a child in snatches through the trees, heading down the path. Then both stared at Unella as she blocked the pathway and aimed her gun. Unella growled to the former dignified crone, "Come on, bitch. Just try it. There is no way I'm letting eat that child." It didn't escape Gregor that Unella glanced at him as she spoke. He got the message and when the wolf rushed at Unella, Gregor ran past them onto the pathway. Two shots later and a dreadful howl of a dying wolf, Unella was chasing after Gregor. "No! You can't, please! Gregor, wait! I didn't take him, you said you would only eat him if I took him! I didn't do it, don't eat the boy! I didn't defy you and don't need a lesson!"

With a huffing roar, Gregor responded as he cut off the pathway for a shortcut. "Bitch, do you think I don't have eyes? That was a clear fucking challenge, Unella, think I didn't see it? Huh? And now my fucking little brother needs a lesson, doesn't he? Wonder who influenced THAT fucking rebellion? You will watch me eat that baby. Both of you will." Unella gave up pleading, it would be useless. She heard him take a new direction and cursed.

Following Gregor would do no good, she put on a burst of speed. She headed towards the area they had parked in and prayed the truck was already gone. Not hearing the truck engine start up wasn't a good sign at all. Unella burst into the opening of dirt and old forgotten roads. Then stood there, weaving, panting, her shoulders slumped. It was too late.

 

Sandor was almost to the damned truck and like a monster, Gregor came rushing from the shadows. Sam screamed in terror and frustration at this ogre daring to challenge the giant over a small Sam sized snack. He balled his fists, growled and flashed his teeth at the new menace while Sandor skidded to a halt. Gregor paced before the truck and glared at Sandor. "Hand it over, now. You and Unella are going to both stand here and watch me have some fucking dinner. I am so pissed at you, boy. Hand him over or I swear your punishment will be worse than you fucking can imagine." Gregor was too angry to notice the child much yet.

Unella came forward in a near stagger, then pulled out a sharp blade and held it against her stomach. "Gregor. If you try and eat the child, I'm going to carve out your baby. Don't bother lying, I'm not stupid, just hormonal. I will do it, even if it kills me, I don't care. You don't get your super-spawn if you eat that toddler." Gregor glared at his wife, Sandor remained still, clutching that toddler. Unella had pressed the blade into the side of her stomach enough to form a small bloodstain. With an air of menace, Gregor began to circle Unella, Sandor and Sam. "So both of you are challenging me now. I see. I have a fucking mutiny on my hands."

"Just let me drop the kid somewhere, Gregor. It's all I was going to do. I'm not challenging you, I just don't want you to eat Sam." Gregor glared at Sandor and sneered, "Sam? You named it?" Sandor snorted. "He told me his name. Sam Gisan. He isn't a creature, Gregor, just a human kid that got lost in the woods. I'll drop him at a random doorstep, they'll find his parents. He's too young to talk about anything and he'll forget. Just let me get the boy safe and I'll take any punishment you want me to. Please." It took a lot for Sandor to say the word please to his older brother and they all knew it. Gregor was slightly shook at the idea that this child has such instant attachment from his brother.

He glanced at Unella and saw the woman was dead serious. Gregor was hoping to get at least a few months in before having to admit the truth to Unella. But she wasn't stupid and he had tried to tell the doctor that. The man didn't listen and just insisted if he gave her pills, both fetal and sedative pills, that the woman would just stop questioning. But Unella never doubted she was pregnant, she just doubted wanting to give birth to it.

Gregor thought past his anger as he continued to pace around them all. He cast an eye towards the child squirming in Sandor's grasp to watch Gregor go past. That was interesting, the boy was tracking him like a predator. Gregor stopped pacing and walked slowly towards Sandor and the boy. Unella pressed slightly deeper and he stopped.

"Unella, I want to see the boy and speak to my brother. Do you think you can stop carving my baby out while I fucking do that?" With a blink of surprise, Unella gave a sharp nod and moved her blade to rest above her cut. Even though Unella knew she was carrying a baby, having Gregor admit it seemed to make it more real to her. He saw the truth of it sink deep teeth into her and Gregor gave a smirk. This was the wife, not the huntress and he knew how to handle her, hormones or not. Gregor stood before Sandor and looked at his brother with clear disapproval. He dominated the man's space even though he didn't attack him or try to snatch the child. 

As Gregor expected, Sandor cringed slightly and moved a bit back without moving his feet. But Sandor also held more firmly to the child and faced his brother, only glancing up into his eyes as to not challenge him. "Gregor, this boy is different. He was in the woods alone at night for no reason and survived it. When I found him, he had just killed a fucking werewolf! He used a stick and bashed Ygritte's head in. I had wounded her badly earlier but she had gotten away. This little kid not only killed Ygritte, he warned me when another one rushed me and he tried to even challenge her! This boy isn't for eating, he is for something!"

Sighing, Gregor rolled his black eyes which made all three of them flinch slightly. Gregor crouched down to face the small boy in his brother's arm.

 

Sam understood ogres. He understood the situation clearly. The giant monster hunters are trying to save him and the ogre wishes to eat him. Just like the werewolves and Sam wondered why all monsters wanted to eat him. Are all boys that are Sam just very tasty? Sam noticed that unlike when giant Sandor saw the wolf, he wasn't attacking this monster. The lady giant was holding a knife to herself instead of the ogre and that was strange and he wanted to tell her she was getting stabbing wrong.

Now the gigantic face was nearly in his own, the sneering mouth could eat his whole head! Sam knew then that the hunters were under the spell of this ogre. Just like in daddy's stories. Ogres need good deals, trades and tricks. There is only one other way with ogres, to challenge and fight them. These two giants must have lost to the ogre and are stuck obeying him. That means the ogre will eat him so they will cry and the ogre will laugh while Sam is still on those big teeth. Just like bad daddy's stories and Sam isn't okay with that.

He gnashed his little teeth, readied his chubby fists then gave a roar of challenge into the ogre's face. It was fantastic, glorious and made both Sandor and Unella wince with it's power. Gregor was slightly stunned at the audacity of the fierce little thing and the volume and depth of the clear challenge. He roared back into the child's face and both Sandor and Unella wanted so badly to hit him. But Sam just withstood the storm of it even though he felt that it might have peeled his face off. Sam stared with dry blazing eyes at Gregor. The face moved slightly closer and Sam reacted. A tiny fist went straight into a black eye and Gregor pulled back, flinching in bright pain.

"Ouch. Little fucker." He rubbed at his eye then stared more at this curious critter. "Aren't you a little fighter? Okay then. Yeah. Here is what we will do. I know who this kid is, I remember him now. Sam and Gilly's boy. Gilly is dead and Sam is...the clowns are back. So this kid has no one anyway. Unella, I will trade you my son for this boy. Petyr won't say no if I say we are adopting Sam. You and Sandor can have the added burden of raising this hellion along with my hellspawn. How does that sound for you, Unella? Sandor?"


	58. Sibling Fight

Lysa threw herself and the chair backwards, the blade leaving only a small burning line on her furry, thickening neck. Nothing like rage and pain to kick in the animal instinct and the woman willed herself into the change. Calmly, Cat stood up, put the dagger back in her pocket and pulled out a silver hatchet. She moved fast, as Lysa's skin flowed into red spiky fur and a snout full of teeth.

Cold pure iron forged steel rage allowed Cat to swing. The full strength of a wife and mother's instinct, drunk on clown paint and crazed by memories of sweet need for slaughter landed upon the changing werewolf. Cat kept burying the hatchet into her sister's elbow joint. Fast, hard, brought it down and watched the lower arm fall with pure satisfaction.

"Remember when we were sixteen and wanted jobs? Father was sick of paying for our entertainments and told us so. We both wanted that cushy job at the movie theater? All the free popcorn, movies and boy watching you could ever want. We both went for that interview and the other interview father sent us on. The one for the butcher downtown? We both know who was offered which job, don't we? But you took the fucking manager at the movie theater into the bathroom and gave him a blow job. Petyr saw you do it and told me all about it. Now it looks like working at that damn butchery was truly a great idea for me! Look how much learned from it! l I mean it has allowed me to prepare large meats for fancy dinner parties and dismember live werewolves!"

Lysa wasn't listening, she was screaming, the blood was gushing on her clean tiles. Writhing, she swept out at her hateful sister but the hatchet caught her at the wrist. She watched stupidly as her claw just plopped onto the ruined floor, laying there being useless. Cat started on Lysa's right leg, right below the knee and Lysa's left leg became slightly useful. It kicked hard enough to knock the gray menace into the wall. However, it was only seconds before she was coming right back, swinging and smiling in the most unfeeling way.

"Lady Stoneheart. It's my new clown name, Lysa. Do you like it? I like it. I have no more heart, bitch. My heart was my family. Now they are mostly gone and the ones left are breaking the rest of my heart as we speak. I don't know why, but that is true, I feel it. I'm coming to kill you, Lysa. And I am going to kill anyone else I see fit too, at least tonight. Now, dear. I want you to know this before you die, it's very important. It's about your son, about Robin. I want you to know that I will raise him for you, he is my nephew, it would look bad if I didn't."

Lysa was dragging herself on bone, raw nerves. Her back legs were still digging in, getting purchase, even through the pain of half her lower calf feeling loose in a terrible way. She faced her hatchet wielding maniac clown of a sister and snarled. How dare that cunt think she could ever raise Robin? That she could kill Lysa and take her one special boy away? Mama bear slowly rose on two legs and took one staggered step forward, teeth gnashing. Cat seemed unconcerned and swung the hatchet lightly around, still smiling. And finished speaking in the most reasonable of tones.  

"I'm going to raise your son right along side my children, as if they are siblings. I'm going to stuff your son full of frozen vegetables, microwave dinners, bags of potato chips, boxes of sugary treats. After school, once a month, I will bring the kids to whichever fast food restaurant I see first and let Robin buy a burger meal for an afternoon snack. He will wear t shirts and jeans until they are dirty enough for me to bother washing. Robin will see scary movies, the boys will sneak porn and show him it. Arya will play pranks on him like she does to Rickon. I will only force him to shower if he smells bad, I will only make him clean his room when I remember about it. And he probably will never recall you much because I'll forget to remind him about you."

A rage filled roar and Lysa launched herself to bite her sister's throat out.

Cat did the unexpected then. Instead of meeting the wolf with her hatchet, Cat giggled and ran away. Wounded, enraged, the instinct to chase prey kicked in and Lysa used a limping run to go after the fleeing bitch. How dare Cat start a problem then run from it even now, at the end? The gray giggling clown skipped out the door then slid down the steps, not caring the hard brick edges cut and bruised her. Lysa burst out the door, no longer caring about secrets any longer. Her keen instincts and her one eye didn't register the razor wire strung tightly across her porch pillars until it was already slicing.

Cat crawled closer and watched intently as Lysa's head formed from a wolf. Fascinating. With a giggle, Cat got up and thought briefly about playing a game of kickball with her sister's head across the lawn. No, something was urging her another direction, the night wasn't over yet. She took down her wire then skipped inside Lysa's house to collect her items and wipe down any prints she might have left among the bloody kitchen.

 

When she finished, Cat stretched and headed out towards her car, carrying a make up case and weaponry that for some reason she just knew the wrong folks wouldn't notice.

She drove around, trying to understand where she was being pulled. Cat pulled into a driveway and gave another round of giggles. "Well, doesn't this seem right, somehow. Okay. Let's go with it, I have never felt better and want some more fun. I never have fun and I refuse to think of why my living children are leaving me. I feel it and the town doesn't care. It wants me to break into Varys's house. How fucked up is this? How fucked up am I?" A last giggle and Cat got out of the car, leaving her items behind. Cat found the garage door open and let herself in.

With no surprise, Cat found herself moving a pristine clean steel counter aside and broke into a small secret doorway. Cat gave an elegant clap of delight at the trunk full of wigs and costumes. She sighed with delight at the other trunk full of the most imaginable fun and deadly props for clowns. It took her some time to get both heavy cases into her car but it was done. Cat drove home and began the process of creating a hidden room for her clown gear. It was too late this fall but she knew that next fall there would be no vulgar clown giving weapons to vicious thugs, encouraging them to rape and torture young boys and girls.

There would be a fun but polite Lady Stoneheart who will give advice, clown gear and weapons to only those who deserve justice. Things under her fall reign will be very different, she was sure of it. Cat was only sad that she would forget all of this until next fall. That in the morning, she will no longer remember that she killed her sister, that Lysa was even a werewolf. No, maybe that was big enough for her to remember.

Just in case this was the last time she could ever smile about her revenge, Cat ran upstairs. Throwing herself on her bed in a rush, Cat ripped down her underwear and thrust her hand between her legs. And found her own way to a complete closure of the justice delivered to Lysa.


	59. Fresh Meat

Shireen enjoyed the show until Shitmouth gasped his last breath. Scampering sounds and giggling alerted her only seconds before two sweaty clowns tackled her. "Ugh, off me, assholes!" Shireen rolled out from under Rickon and Robin, grimacing at the sweat and paint transferred to her. "Yuck. Gross." She stood up as the other two moved over to investigate the dead clown.

"You killed Shitmouth? Damn." Rickon sounded approving but Robin gave a sad frown. "You couldn't wait for us to help? Or at least get to see it? Selfish, Shireen. Very selfish of you." Rolling her eyes, she snarled at them. "He deserved to die by my hand! He attacked me, not you two. And I didn't really plan it. I just saw him and knew I was going to kill him for what he did. Why aren't you guys inside?"

Rickon shrugged. "Hot Pie and Arya really wanted to be alone with their kills. And it's awful hot in these costumes to just hang out in there until we are needed. I want to have a kill of my own. Robin wants his own too." As if the town was delivering wishes, they heard whispering and laughter heading towards the back of the barn. Carefully, silently, the trio tiptoed and peered towards the back. Two more clowns coming, one short and stocky, the other tall nearly a high wall.

Whispering, Robin asked, "Is that dynamite? It looks like they have a bunch of dynamite." His voice didn't sound concerned, it sounded like jealousy and excitement. "We need that. Let's steal it from them." Shireen smirked. "Looks like you get your kills after all. They are going to blow up the barn and everyone in it if we don't stop them."

 

Damon and Alyn were still experiencing the sweet high that slowly butchering Sam provided them. They kept having trouble not laughing too loud, not wanting to give themselves away. Parking at a back roads, they carried the dynamite and weapons from the woods to sneak behind the barn. Seeing nothing, hearing a mix of scary music and what might be real screams coming from the barn, they felt safe to proceed.

Giggling, wiping tears of mirth from their eyes, the two clowns began to set their sticks and timers at different areas. The open crawlspace under the barn, the roof, inside the sky light on the roof, they had set some sticks along the attic.

"Okay, now let's see if we can sneak in just enough to leave a few inside. This should all be enough in total to bring the whole fucking structure down on their heads." Alyn managed to get that all out without giggling but Damon's goofy grin set him off again. "One last quick check on all the placements we have so far, then we can go inside and do the rest. Crazy and jolly or not, we have to double check our work, we are too fucked up as clowns. Can't think well, want to make sure we really can do this. Let's do a quick check." Damon had a point and Alyn nodded.

A few minutes later, Alyn had his head tilted and kept blinking. "Uh, I know I put a timer and sticks right here and I saw you put the other one on the porch down. So where did they go? We didn't imagine doing it, did we?" Before Damon could truly contemplate the horror of that, he saw a rainbow clown sprint by, holding their dynamite.

"Thank you, kind Sirs! I promise to put all your dynamite to good use!" Alyn dropped his jaw then hollered, while pointing. "Hey! That rainbow just stole from us, how fucking rude is that?" They both started to thunder after the cheerful streak of colors only to hear and see more clowns. A fire clown was holding more of their dynamite and laughing, waving to them. A third clown appeared, it's blue wig jauntily shivering on a small boy head. "Hiya! Welcome to the haunt! We love fresh meat! Since you didn't pay at the door, we can just take your boom sticks as payment, okay? Great!"

Damon chuckled as Alyn smiled brightly, madly, and pulled out a machete. The large clown finally stopped laughing and pulled out a whip with tiny razor sharp hooks upon it. A flick of his wrist and it gave a menacing crack as it slithered fast like a black snake. "Did you really just call us fresh meat, boy? If any of you were smart, you'd drop that dynamite and run away, really fast and really far. Don't want to kill little kids if I can help it. Problem is, I don't think I can help it, Alyn can't either. So it's up to you little piglets to run squealing home right now before it's too late."

The small clowns all laughed at him and cavorted off with the dynamite. Alyn and Damon gave each other huge shining wet rolling eyes and lost each other to the need for slaughter. Damon chased after the boys and Alyn started to follow Shireen, who climbed up towards the roof rather than run like the boys did.  

 

Arya took such care with everything she did from the second Rickon left.

A harsh light poured white heat upon Tickler and she enjoyed being able to savor every moment of her victim's torment. She drank it in like the most refreshing drink she has ever had in her short life. Ignoring his curses, threats and attempts to bite her, spit on her, Arya cut his costume off him. Her lines were easy, slow and neat though when he jerked around, she was happy to sink her blade into the flesh like butter. After he was fully naked before her, did Arya speak. Her voice was full of cruel amusement.

"Well, I see the real problem now. Of course you have to rape girls, how else would you ever have sex? I mean...it's like a sweaty pelt on your chest and those puffy nipples are just...ridiculous. Then we have your damned paunchy belly, white like a dead bloated whale. Never mind that thing dangling between your legs. I don't know much yet about sex, but the rest of you makes you too repulsive for it to matter. You are so disgusting, I can't imagine any girl wanting you near them." Tickler roared and thrashed in rage and earth shattering ego smashing, Arya just kept laughing at him, poking into his belly, to make it shake.

"As fun as this is, I have some real interesting plans for parts of you, Tickler. So let's get to work before I run out of time on this glorious night the town has offered me!" Tickler's cursing and threats turned to screams of pain and eventually, to pleading. Settling down between the man's legs with some rather special tools that she was happy to show him up close, Arya began. A silver razor wire was tugged in tiny jagged motions while she giggled and Tickler screamed, thrashing. It was a great way to remove testicles but she needed something better for the main attraction.

Arya did have to stop to slap her prey awake and splash water on him before holding up the hedge clippers for him to see.

 


	60. Goodbye Piggy

The hook was deep in the meat of Polliver's shoulder, keeping him in place with the tight chain above him. It didn't stop his teeth, his words, his other arm or his legs and feet. Or the fact that he still had weapons upon him which Polliver went for right away. Didn't matter one bit, Piggy was already swinging his bat. There was nowhere for Polliver to go to escape the hits. When he tried to reach his blades, his own bat, his taser, anything, the bat came to shatter his arm then his hand.

Screaming in pain, Polliver tried to hunch, to spin out of the swinging range and couldn't. Ribs broken, at least three, his arm, his hand, Polliver suspected his left leg was broken as well. The pain was enormous, the helplessness intolerable and that Piggy was doing it was earth shattering. With a snorting chuckle, his hog masked aggressor dropped the bat and kicked it away to go for another thing. Polliver started to laugh in spite of his pain and fear.

This was Piggy and if Polliver was going to die at his hands, he would make the boy suffer all the way to the end.

"Fuck you, Piggy! Fuck you, go on kill me! What are you gonna do, huh? I can take whatever you dish out. Little fucking coward. You needed little fucking kids, a clown and a whole fucking haunted house just to catch me and hold me for you. Couldn't have done that on your own. Had to wear a mask just to face me! Little pussy! What did I really do that was so wrong, huh? Gave you the right name, let you help me stop bad people from hurting or killing more kids? If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have become a clown!"

Hot Pie tilted his head as he studied Polliver's laughing cruel features as he moved closer with a pair of pliers.

"So, I should thank you for nearly getting me killed. I should thank you for years of fucking torture? Should I thank you for letting Tickler rape Arya or how about for what you fuckers did to poor Lommy? Or how about for the terrible name scarred on my stomach, never mind in my fucking brain for so long already? I'm having trouble understanding what I should be thankful for? Do you even know what my real name is, Polliver? Huh? Did you ever?"

Polliver cackled. "I know what your parents named you. But the name I gave you is better, more fitting. Piggy you are. You'll always be Piggy. Always."

Hot Pie nodded and put the pliers down to start up the small hedge clippers.

"When you are ready to say what my real name is, let me know, okay?"

With each finger he removed, he stopped to cauterize it with a small blow torch. In between each cutting and burning he would ask Polliver what his name was. Polliver would scream with pain but pant out in a sneer, "Piggy. You'll always be Piggy. Even after you've killed me, you'll be Piggy." Hot Pie ran out of fingers and the man had passed out twice on him during that time.

With a growl, Hot Pie jammed an adrenaline shot into Polliver's thigh and waited until the man screamed back into life. He poured some water into Polliver's mouth and when it was spit back at him, he shoved water down his throat until his victim nearly drowned.

"Say my fucking name!"

"PIGGY!"

Hot Pie grabbed onto a fire poker and began to go between stabbing and whacking Polliver's arms and legs. Already mostly broken, it was enough to make Polliver throw up on himself. Still his answer remained the same. Even after Hot Pit slammed the poker into Polliver's testicles a few times.

When Arya timidly entered the room awhile later she could hear a hard wet thump then Hot Pie grunting out a hoarse demand.

"What's my name?"

It took Arya some time to convince Hot Pie that the man he was questioning was dead. That Hot Pie had smashed Polliver's head in so many times he was nearly unrecognizable. Hot Pie screamed then and burst into tears. Arya hugged him briefly, both of them tacky with blood.

"Your name is Hot Pie."

Arya shoved at the dead man with a toe.

"And his name is already forgotten."

 

Alyn held the handle of the machete in his teeth, giggling madly as he climbed up the ladder. He watched the girl disappear over the top and climbed even faster. A small piece of him was totally disgusted and horrified with what he was going to do. But most of Alyn was yearning to chop up that girl, to scare her, hurt her and make her scream then die.

He reached the top and there was Shireen, grinning down at him. The flame from the small blowtorch caught him right in the eyes. Screaming, Alyn fell and then he made no further sounds at all. Giggling, Shireen climbed down and skipped over the dead body. Frowning, she heard screams coming from the nearby woods. It sounded like the boys and she rolled her eyes.

Two of them, one of Damon and they still messed it up somehow. Sighing, Shireen headed towards the sounds to save the boys and kill the giant clown. 


	61. A Colorful Display of Noise And Slaughter

Damon, Rickon and Robin were having the time of their lives. Flying through the woods, the boys darting away from each other to distract Damon from a target. All three were laughing as if this weren't a game that would end in death. It was like a young uncle playing a game of tumble tag with his nephews. Except the laughter was all too high pitched, the eyes were all too feral and large, plus most games of tag don't involve hooked whips whistling through the air.

The first one to feel the bite of the whip was Robin and he discovered a whole new world of pain. He howled louder than any werewolf and staggered, nearly stopped altogether from the sheer agony. Only hearing the whip crack playfully at his thigh did Robin gallivant into action, heading for cover by weaving through trees. His shoulder felt on fire and his arm was nearly useless, bleeding. The blood ran as fast as he did and Robin didn't want to laugh anymore. "Fuck! That really hurt, Damon, you asshole!"

Screaming that made Robin feel a little better. Damon laughed and responded cheerfully. "Thank you! I don't get to use this whip much and I was afraid I'd be rusty!" Another, another and his back was bleeding, it was actually hard to breathe, he couldn't run anymore. The next one got the back of his knees and ripped deep. Robin plunged down and cried out as his head hit a small rock. Robin tried to crawl but the whip kept coming and he screamed, trying to flip over. He figures he might as well try to bite the man before the whip rips him apart.

"OW! SHIT-NUGGETS! THAT HURT! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

Robin didn't understand how Damon was already hurting from a bite he hasn't delivered yet. He also didn't get why it was raining rocks. Damon kicked him in the stomach and Robin didn't wonder about anything but how to breathe for a minute. During that time the giant clown thundered off in a new direction. A shriek from Rickon let Robin understand why Damon hasn't finished whipping him to death. Rickon must have been throwing rocks to stop Damon from killing him. Now Robin must save his cousin. But when he tried to sit up, he cried. When he tried to stand, he screamed.

Robin slumped back down to try and figure out how to save Rickon. The pain of his deep wounds was immense and hard to think through as well as his dizzy head. Shireen burst through the bushes and his overwrought nerves couldn't deal. Robin shrieked, fell backwards and knocked his foolish self out cold on the same damned rock. "Are you shitting me right now? Really, Robin?" Shireen stood there only long enough to make sure the idiot was still breathing. She could hear Rickon screaming and Damon cackling in the distance.

 

After a last worried glance towards Robin, Shireen ran towards the sounds of the other clowns.

She doubts the same lucky thing could happen to Damon. The thought though of the giant man shrieking, leaping backwards and knocking himself out did make her giggle. It also made Shireen run faster, faster than she ever has but she isn't tired, no. Giggling and energized, barely recognizing a tiny sober piece of her that whispered. We've gone mad. You know that, right? Crazy and a killer. Shireen didn't care about that tiny voice, it was only the truth and truth sets you free. That was how she ran straight out of the woods after Damon and Rickon.

Free, insane and utterly happy with being a killer, Shireen didn't think twice about slamming into Damon's leg with her blade. The giant howled and his whip went wild, missing the boy completely. Rickon sobbed and rolled away, screaming at the numerous deep wounds scraping on the rough ground. He staggered painfully to his feet. When the whip had begun striking him, he fell and curled up like a pill bug. So the cuts were all upon his back, shoulders, buttocks and legs. They hurt terribly but he could still move.

Rickon knew he had to help Shireen, she didn't understand the sheer size and whip talent of this man. She was getting the idea however, as Damon struck her twice before she could launch any further attacks at him. Rickon took a deep breath and used the last weapon he knew how to use best. "HEY CUNTLICKER! I HEARD THAT YOU SUCKED RAMSAY BOLTON'S DICK TO BE HIS BEST FRIEND! I HEARD YOU LET ROOSE BOLTON FUCK YOU FOR YOUR STUPID JOB! YOU EVEN SUCKED AT THAT!" Damon froze over Shireen's curled form and then turned very, very slowly. His voice was very soft and friendly.

"What did you say, buddy? I'm coming for you, gonna correct you on a few things, my dear boy. Run, run fast." Rickon flew and Damon came for him, no longer laughing, now he was roaring in anger like a wounded bear.

Shireen got to her feet and chased after them. The pain from the whip has taken some of her speed away but she was still determined. As she broke through the thinning trees she could see they have hit the back road. Rickon was running across the yellow line and Damon had the whip cracking only inches from him. "Gonna whip you to death, boy! Gonna make you dance for me, fucking little shit!" The headlights splashed across Rickon's running form and his eyes looked startled as breaks shrieked and metal hit human.

 

 Sandor didn't see the small strange clown running until it was too late. He slammed the breaks hard, causing Gregor to end up catching Sam just before he went through the windshield. Gregor groaned when Unella gasped and leaped out of the truck. He roared after her as he tossed the startled toddler into his brother's lap. Sandor was still in a state of shock, so Sam was free to turn and watch the events unfold in front of the truck. Unella was kneeling next to the poor twisted dead clown  adorned child. "WIFE, THIS IS NOT YOUR CONCERN! GET BACK IN THE TRUCK NOW!" 

Gregor was truly speechless a second later. Just, no words, nothing, a blank moment of staring because nothing prepared him for it. A large clown rushed up to Unella and kicked hard into her stomach. Hard enough to knock her flat on the dead boy, gasping, eyes bulging, back arched, mouth open trying to find air. And her hands clutching at her lower abdomen in clawed agony. The clown screamed down at her as he drew back his arm, a whip readying to slither and crack at her. "THAT WAS MY KILL, YOU STUPID CUNT!" That is when Gregor was released from his numb stupor and he was faster than the man's whip.

Unella was gripped with hot pincers in her belly, she could hardly breathe but she managed to sit up. Slumping off the boy, she curled under the terrible power of a cramp then felt the blood. Hot then cold, on her thighs and Unella started to laugh louder and louder. This seemed to only set Gregor into further rage as he set upon his victim. Damon screamed as the towering zombie came for him with gnashing teeth and fists as large as that stupid boy's head was. Shireen watched from the side of the road. She was crying for her friend but giggling just as crazy loud as Unella was at the strange justice.

Sam and Sandor both watched Gregor's destruction of the large clown with a grim fascination. He was ripping the man apart like a cooked tender bird and also eating him a little. This was interesting but the real spooky things were to the sides of the savage attack. Both males looked at Unella laying in a small puddle blood laughing like a crazy woman. Then Sam and Sandor turned uneasily to stare at Shireen on the other side of the road who was giggling and pointing at the terrible death.

Sam gave Sandor a look and the man shrugged. "I understand killing monsters. I don't understand females."


	62. A Sobering Walk

Bronn staggered out of the tavern on the wharf, narrowing his eyes to make things less blurry. With an enormous belch that echoed, he contemplated his car keys and shook his head. Nope. Roose told him the next time Bronn was caught drunk driving, would be the final strike and he would melt his fucking license in front of him. Cursing to himself, Bronn prepared for a long cold walk home. He stared up at the sky just starting to lighten towards the day and he cursed louder.

He was cutting through the richest section of town in order to hit the woods that crossed him over to the back road. Shae was letting him crash with her in her trailer and it figures it had to be all way on the other fucking side of town. She was probably out turning tricks in a costume, kinky Halloween profits as she called it. Bronn was heading past that crazy cunt Lysa's house when he saw something...strange. He was drunk but not blind and he could smell just fine. 

A veteran of war, Bronn knows what death smells like, he knows what it looks like. Spending a few years on a police force also meant he sensed when there was something very wrong with a scenario, drunk or not. He staggered onto Lysa's lawn and took a harder look then took out his phone. Bronn had Roose Bolton's private line on his phone. Roose had used his skills a few times here and there, paid him well for it.

"Roose, you want to get over to Lysa's house right the fuck away. She is naked, decapitated and very dead. I am drunk and out of here."

 

Bronn was so tired that he didn't give a living flying fuck about any possible werewolves. He has lived here long enough to expect just about anything but he had trouble believing the monster bullshit. What just happened to Lysa, that wasn't supernatural. That wasn't a wolf or a vampire or some ghostly demonic or zombie shit, it was plain obvious murder. Straight up human made homicide.

Bronn heard no howling nor anything at all as he forced his way through the roots and trees that seemed determined to catch and eat him.

"Off me, fucking treeants! No eat the Bronn."

He laughed a bit at himself and then snorted. This was pathetic and Bronn knew it. How long can his liver last at this rate, how long will Shae let him stay with her? If he could just get sober, there were real tangible options for him, he knew it. Just the mere terrifying thought of this caused Bronn to pull out his flask.

He sipped at it all the way until he reached the road itself. Then he stood just behind the last of the trees as he clutched hard at the metal in his hands.

 

Bronn recognized the Cleganes right away. Sandor in the truck holding a strange toddler. Gregor seemed to be covered in gore, standing over what might have been a human once. Then he backhanded his wife. Who was sitting next to a clearly broken and dead boy and laughing her ass off while she bled all over her legs. Bronn watched as Unella fell down limp and Gregor hauled her into the truck.

Then Bronn waited until the truck sped away. He knew better than to tangle with that group, Bolton warned him of that years back. Never a reason why but then again, Bronn never asked. He staggered over to stare down at what appeared to have been a large man, now half eaten. That is what made Bronn vomit all over himself. Something that he never does, not at a crime scene, not during war and not while drinking. When he finished he called Roose.

"Back road, road kill boy clown and a half eaten man clown. Clegane has got an injured wife and they have ah, a toddler? Looks kind of like that librarian's kid. Seth, Shawn? Whatever. Going the fuck home."

 

Bronn started to cut towards the barn at a jog, Shae's trailer park was just beyond it, really. He made it as far as the pudgy dead clown with splayed intestines. Another round of vomit just from the smell and memory of a eaten horror. This time he just said a few words and hung up.

"Old barn. Dead clown."

As he staggered faster to get towards the trailer, a blood covered pig faced figure came out of the barn and numbly asked Bronn, "What is my name?"

Bronn hasn't run so fast since he was a child running from his drunken dad. He flew to the trailer and locked the flimsy door, turning on lights and pulling down shades. In a frenzy, Bronn packed all his shit up. He dumped all liquor down the rusted sink drain then tossed all his drug stash down the toilet. Sitting on the edge of a chair, Bronn waited for dawn.

It was time to take Roose's offer for that rehab center. 


	63. Sacrifices

Cat made herself a cup of tea, still in costume. She snickered to think what the children would think of her outfit but she didn't wish to change just yet. That is when she caught site of the terrible lady in the window staring at her. Hair piled crazily on top of narrow head, the stern but lovely features of the woman was only hinted at. The make up looked gray and a long errant red hair across the woman's slender neck looked like a long slash.

The teacup smashed to the ground and Cat listened as the terrible woman spoke to her. "Don't pretend not to see the truth, darling. Say it, get the damned pimple popped and let the bad stuff leak out. Say it, say it out loud, face it, like you are facing me." Cat watched the lady in the window start to leak huge tears and she spoke in a trembling voice. "My kids are gone. My family is gone. Rickon is dead, Arya and Bran won't be home for a very long time."

With a sort of taunting sympathy the woman in the window nodded. "The town has taken your family and it will give in return. It gives you a new power, a new thirst and every fall you may seek your vengeance any way you choose. The town takes care of it's own, it will take care of you, give you other children, give you the power you watched others wield, can be yours now. And your two remaining children will return someday. One as an agent of chaos like yourself...and the other will come to destroy the town."

Cat shivered and pleaded at her reflection, "I cannot kill my own child. I refuse." The lady smirked and trilled out, "No, dear. You aren't going to kill your child. You are going to save the ones that will kill him instead. Go now and hurry before its too late."

 

Shireen had run back to Robin, hoping he would already be awake. He was just groggily standing there, leaning against a tree, as if confused. "My head and body hurt. Why? What are you doing, I am hurt, I don't want to be pulled! Let me go!" With a sigh, Shireen started to try and cajole Robin into moving when pain struck her hard. Robin screamed as Shireen fell on him. Another blast of icy hot pain in Shireen's back, two more and she managed to roll off her friend to look up. 

Petyr looked less like a gallant ringmaster with his hair all spiked with sweat and the enraged twisted features on his face. "That was my best friend! That was the only person in this entire fucking town who gave a shit what happened to you! No more clowning around for you, bitch! You don't deserve the make up!" The rapier began to slash again and Shireen screeched, unable to get away.

Robin tried to cover Shireen's bleeding form with his own but Petyr gave a powerful kick to the boy's head. The kid bounced off the same rock with his head and his eyes went unfocused. Arya barreled into Petyr from behind, knocking him away from the kids. However Petyr's rage was high and Arya's energy was depleted by her recent kill. He stabbed her four times before Hot Pie leaped on Petyr from behind and bit hard into his neck while screaming about his name.

Petyr managed to slam himself backwards into a tree, ramming Hot Pie against it several times until the boy let go. Spinning around, Petyr raised his rapier, preparing to kill all these ungrateful clowns when a shot rang out. Petyr found that very strange since clowns are not permitted to use guns. It was his last thought as the bullet passed through his brain.

 

Hot Pie looked up at Roose with his smoking gun and asked, "What is my name?" Arya looked up at Roose and just started to laugh and laugh. Shireen and Robin were both still and bleeding upon the earth. Roose shook his head and spoke mournfully.

"Well, this is one hell of a pickle, isn't it? All those I planned to pin all this fall's slaughter on are now dead. And I'm afraid too many have died or gone missing this fall. Too many. Pity."

Roose radioed for emergency services to come for the children and he smiled gently at Hot Pie and Arya. When Roose had gone to Lysa's house, he had seen strange splotches of what seemed to be tacky paint on the woman's table. He had wiped some of it onto his wrist for no particular reason and has felt calm ever since.

It was as if the stressful night was already solved. 

 

Cat drove smoothly into the driveway and got out of the car, patting her neat bun one last time. She could hear Unella screaming, Gregor and Sandor yelling and above it all, a babbling toddler voice. Sighing at such chaos, she grabbed the medical items she found from Robb's stash and headed for the house. Cat found the door unlocked and simply let herself in. Humming a jaunty little tune, Cat began to sway her hips and give a little jump to her step as she headed into the Clegane kitchen.

Unella was laying upon their table, towels stained crimson underneath her. Her top half was clearly ready for hunting and her lower half was naked, wounded red crimson and blue bruising. She was clenching the sides of the table, screaming in pain, her knees bent tightly, squirming and panting. Gregor and Sandor stood over her arguing with each other.

"No hospital can help her, you fucking moron! She won't bleed to death, Unella's too mean to die on me. And if you don't want me to eat that kid, you'd better shut yourself and him up!"

Cat smirked and twiddled her fingers at the cute toddler that was standing on a chair and yelling at the giants around him. The boy stopped yelling to wave back at her and that is when the rest of the Cleganes noticed her.

"Hello there, Clegane clan. Your door was open and good thing too. Gregor is right, no hospital can help you since Dr. Qyburn is dead. However, the town thinks I can do what he no longer can. I am sorry, Unella. I am very pro choice but your children are going to be so important. You'll teach them to be. All three of you will teach them how to keep this town safe."

 

They all watched in fascination as Cat came forward and stood in front of Gregor, who was gnashing and readying his teeth. Cat gave him a chilling polite smile and tilted her head. Her voice sounded very unafraid and unimpressed, bored actually.

"Yes, yes, it is rather hard for you to accept this, I understand. But I am here to save that child. If you try and eat me, the child dies and in a few years, we all will die. The whole town will die when my son Bran returns. He won't just come with vampires and werewolves, he will bring his own children as well. You see the town in my eyes, you see the truth and you see why you are the zombie you are. This family will start a new breed of monster hunters to fight new breeds coming for us. Get out of my way, Gregor."

Unella hollered out, pointing at Gregor.

"Zombie! I told you, everyone knows! And you, you bitch! How dare you try to stop nature's own course! Go away! Shoo!"

That alone made Gregor decide to step aside and grin widely down at Unella. "Fine, I am a zombie. And you, you are going to have a zombie baby if she can make that happen! Then I'll tie you to the bed until you give birth if I have to! And if Cat fails, I'm going to eat her crazy ass then gobble up that damned toddler!"

 

While Cat worked on Unella who has lapsed into a stupor, Gregor asked her, "You said children? How many more times do I have to put up with Unella acting this way?" Without giving a glance to Gregor or Sandor who was listening intently, Cat replied.

"I can't tell you if Unella bears more children or not. I meant your newly adopted boy. The one your brother is clutching tightly and sneaking chocolate cookies to. That boy is yours now, the town has accepted the claim you made for the boy. The moment you allowed your brother and wife to put the child in your truck, you took him for one of your family."

A few tense hours later Unella was laying in her bed deeply asleep. Cat had smiled before she left.

"That is one strong fetus in there. On a normal night, in a normal situation that should have been a miscarriage. Normal medical science would tell you that baby was dead, should be and is dead. Amazing. Gregor, have you thought of using the carrot instead of the stick with your wife? You really cannot keep her tied to the bed until she gives birth."

Rudely, Gregor slammed the door in Cat's face, leaving her to head towards her car as the dawn began to make it's way across the sky.


	64. The Last Fall Leaf

The last leaf of fall died before Robin woke up from his coma. He remembered nothing at all of that fateful night he was whacked into the rock. Nor did he recall much about his mother either. In fact, he had to relearn to speak, to walk and to learn. Of course his aunt Cat was there to help him every step of the way. Once Robin was able to utilize a bathroom, feed himself and use both his walker and the chair effectively, his aunt took him to her huge empty castle. She called it something else but all Robin saw was a castle.

It was a cold large lonely place but during the day it was full of therapists, tutors and more. Aunt Cat herself was somewhat cold and often not around but made sure Robin was never in need of anything. He practices walking through the house and has small darting ghosts of memory that never finishes. Rickon. It was a name he knows but it's like his mother. Not really there and no substance for him to grasp onto, no feelings involved. Aunt Cat didn't make Robin feel much of anything as there is no attempt at bonding. The therapists and tutors only stay as long as a task is needed then they leave. No attachments there and he was starting to feel adrift.

Soon Robin saw his crowd of professionals dwindle around him. He was walking on his own for the most part now, only using crutches or the walker for long distances. His speech is halting, slurred and still a bit rough, he says whatever comes to mind which sometimes doesn't match what he meant to say. But he was well enough to go to the speech therapists office twice a week now. Same for physical therapy and the doctors only see him once a month or so. As folks left, the house got quieter and Robin liked and didn't like it.

He went back to school and that was better. Different classes than the ones his friends of the past took and that was a relief for him. Robin hated not knowing what to say if he can't remember someone. In these classes the kids were new to him and accepting of his disabilities. The teachers and kids didn't care if he needed to learn at a slower pace or at a lower level. They didn't care if he sometimes napped instead of working when he was overwhelmed. No one mocked him when he lost his words or needed to use his crutches.

 

After school Robin is met by his caretaker who cares for him while his aunt is busy.

Shireen. It was a fire hair, twinkling eye flash of memories that he can almost reach, almost feel but can't. Instead Robin forges new memories with her now. She wasn't in his special classes, she wasn't in the regular ones either. Her foster father is the new mayor and Shireen cannot do less than honor roll college classes. Robin is a bit scared of him, even though the man has never been mean to him once. Shireen says that Roose is very strict but he teaches her things that only Ramsay could have taught her. She told him that Roose has taken her in because Ramsay would have wanted it. Robin has no idea who Ramsay is but he nods anyway.

Robin heard that Shireen had been stabbed so many times that she almost died. She needed a lot of new blood, she had to be opened to wash blood out of her insides and sewn back up. He traced the scars with his finger, fascinated. One thing they both have in common in the now that Robin finds funny is that both have no real memories of that night they were hurt. They don't know why they were near a barn of dead people. Or who hurt them or why. They let Roose Bolton decide that for them, they let Cat tell them how to say it.

They have pizza, watch scary movies, play x box games and Shireen teaches Robin how to play other games on her cell phone. Robin likes the way Shireen makes grilled cheese sandwiches and she will take him for walks on the wharf all the time. She tells stories of pirates, ghosts and more and he doesn't care if he understands it or not. It was nice to have a friend, she made him feel warm and not lonely.

 

Cat was a very busy woman these days, very busy. She not only took care of her disabled nephew but all her husbands affairs. Cat has decided to return to school and she is hoping to become a lawyer every bit as good as her husband had been. Refusing to hide away in spite of tragedy and scandal, Cat worked as many charities and social events as she could. 

She showed support to Roose Bolton and friendship to Unella Clegane. For some reason Cat cannot understand, she feels compelled to help the woman. The poor thing was pregnant, has adopted a toddler and is married to Gregor. That alone earned Cat's empathy but something about Unella compelled Cat to help the woman any way she could.

Gregor roared and grumbled when Cat forced her way into their lives. And yet, he allowed it as it seemed to keep Unella out of her worst moods. Pregnancy did not suit her and everyone in the house suffered for it. Gregor might be the king of his castle and a zombie cannibal but his queen was turning into a witch of epic proportions.

He hated Unella's new haircut, it was simple, it was lovely and the highlights added made her look younger. The slight make up she wore if she went out to lunch drove him crazy and Gregor developed a twitch when Cat took Unella to a maternity store. Clothing for every stage of a pregnancy, all nice and expensive. Cat had offered to pay for it all and Gregor told Unella they don't take charity. Since Cat wouldn't drop it, Gregor forked over his hard earned money for the shopping trip himself.

He raged and roared when Cat begin to buy "little things for the baby" like a crib, stroller, car seat, a high chair, a play pen and more clothes than any baby had a right to wear. 

 

Sam liked his new loud crazy home. He loved living with the giants and couldn't wait until he grew as big and scary as them. He was already as loud, as capable of throwing a dangerous tantrum and has proven himself as brave as them. The day Sam brought a badger he found in the woods into the house as a pet proved it. Unella and Sandor pitched a fit, both acted afraid of the hissing, irritated creature.

He had to take it outside because they threatened to shoot it dead. Sam tried to keep it as a pet, hiding it away. Gregor entered the woodshed and it bit him. Before Sam could save it, Gregor smashed the badger to bits with his large boot. Sam was constantly warned by the largest giant that he would be eaten, squished, drowned or ripped apart on a daily basis. He took this as a sign of affection and was not in the least bothered by it.

Sandor was the fun one and he took him to the movies, they went to the park, hiking in the woods, rides in the truck to fun places in town with hot chocolate and peppermint sticks. Sam liked Unella when she read him stories, gave him a bath or cooked good food. He also liked to hide when she got a glint into her eye, rubbed her growing stomach and then exploded in temper. Sam would watch as the woman would throw whatever she could reach first at the giant male heads. He would watch as the two grown men would try to hide or find a reason to leave fast.

Sam thought she was kind of like that honey badger he befriended. He was lucky enough to find another one and this one just had babies. They were tucked inside the garden supply shed instead this time. He figured that would be safest for now. 

 

Once a month Cat and Roose take a long drive together. Out of town, past the city and to another similar town to theirs. It has its own brand of secrets and its biggest one is the huge mental asylum for the criminally insane. The visit is painful for Cat and pointless for Roose and yet it is a ritual that must be done. Both Hot Pie and Arya live in this place, unable to be tried for the murders due to their clear, rampant insanity.

Cat's heart is mostly stone and yet, it aches bitterly to see how they have changed. Roose is devoid of most emotions and yet even he is driven to a feeling of pity.

Arya's brown hair hangs in greasy strings in her face, her mouth a thin curved thing, ready to burst out with giggles. Her eyes are the same color they have always been but the spirit is gone. In it's place is a rather manic yet empty look that only deepens when she falls into those uncontrollable giggling fits. They can last for hours on end according to the staff. Medication, shock therapy, circle therapy, therapeutic chores and activities are all used to fix Arya.

A few setbacks have happened such as when Arya had an issue with a rather harassing orderly. She nearly beat him to death with the metal leg of a chair when he had decided to nap after raping a sedated patient. After that, Arya had giggled for three days straight unless sedated enough to sleep. Arya was unable to answer any questions about that terrible night. She would just start to giggle until tears came from her eyes and then Arya would curl up to rock and giggle.

Hot Pie had lost weight, so much that his own uncle would have been wondering if he was going too far. The flesh hung off him, unused skin and flat muscle with nowhere to go. He also had little to say on any given subject. Hot Pie will ask about his name, he will say he doesn't remember his name. If asked about that fateful night, Hot Pie will scream about his name until he is restrained and sedated. He was found in the laundry room using an iron on his stomach to burn away the scarred word. When another inmate tried to stop him, Hot Pie broke the man's jaw with the iron.

It is assumed that both teenagers are too dangerous and mentally ill to be released anytime soon, if ever.

Deep down in a place they cannot quite access, both Roose and Cat know that the two will come back to town someday. So they make the hopeless visits so the children will not forget where they came from, so they will be reminded of their town that always is open to them.

 


	65. Seventeen Falls

"You disappoint me."

"Of course I do, Father. It's a tradition in the Bolton family. Domeric disappointed you by dying. Ramsay disappointed you by existing and-" The young woman took a deep breath before continuing in a bored, rote voice. "I disappoint you because I was raised to be brilliant and instead I waste all my potential by running around like a damned pirate. That you didn't send me to the top university for me to drop out, make a pirate ship and a damned museum and tour show. Even though I have brought this town back on the damned map with my pirate nonsenses. Despite the fact that my summer tours and a few sailing trips in that pirate ship brought our town a huge tourist spike. I disappoint you because I enjoy being single. I disappoint you because half my face is tattooed. Have I missed anything?"

Roose nodded calmly. "Yes. The nose ring." Shireen smirked and finished tightening the leather tunic. "Ah, yes. Sorry." A ghost of a smile appeared on Roose's face and he gave her shoulder a fond pat. "If I had always told you how proud of you that I really was, would you have done nearly as well?" Shireen snorted and turned away to get her weapons ready. He wandered over to the window and drew back the velvet curtains. "I'm curious. Why didn't you book any tourist events for this month? It's Halloween and the revenue you could have brought in..."

Shireen stopped fixing her weapons and shrugged uneasily. "I usually do. But...for some reason, this fall doesn't seem right for it. Locals only, just a small show for them this year. It will be raising money for that new homeless shelter Robin is trying to get going." Roose tilted his head and his eyes seemed to pierce through her. "But Shireen...having tourists come to a haunted pirate ship would have been a great idea for such a charity. You know that."

A window slid open and Roose watched with wide eyes and a very disapproving frown as a skeleton pirate slithered into Shireen's tiny apartment.  In the frostiest voice that was barely a whisper, "Do you still have this awful behavior, Robin? At your age its a terrible shame, young man." Robin grinned and shut the window against the cold fall night. "Uh...not really, Sir. I was playing a joke tonight but...uh...never mind. Sorry, Sir." Shireen pushed past her insulted father and she dope slapped her best friend. "Idiot. Don't apologize to him, it's my home, not my father's."

Roose bristled and got his coat. "The two of you spent years driving myself and poor Cat Stark out of our skulls with that nonsense! Climbing in and out of our windows as if you were clumsy robbers!"

 

Roose drove to the police station where he has been asked to go by the sheriff. He noted that another car was pulling in at the same time. The new mayor stepped out of the car and he sighed. Then he straightened his shoulders, walked over and shook Cat Stark's hand. "Did Bronn ask you here as well, Cat?" Nodding slightly, Cat walked up the police station marble stairs. "Do you have any idea why he wishes to speak with us?"

Roose shrugged. "No. Something is different this fall, can you feel it? Shireen didn't book anything for tourism this month. She has never done that before. Locals only to raise money for Robin's shelter fund. And the boy, he is content to build charities, making a living as a sailor and pirate for Shireen." Cat sniffed but as they entered the lobby, she slowed and moved closer to Roose.

"The weapons Robin has been practicing with for their pirate ship tour shows? They are real now. Have been for months. All those silly training videos and lessons they both took for so long as teenagers. Remember how obsessed they became and we thought it would be a phase. That it was their way of dealing with a trauma they cannot remember. What if it wasn't, Roose? Maybe they were meant to be a different kind of clown. What if the pirating mania all these years wasn't a hobby or faze after all."

Cat looked up at Roose.

  "It's fall and I found the trunk. The memories and Lady Stoneheart are back. I have my paints ready and I am sure you have yours ready. But I feel as if this might be the last time I will play a role...that is a relief and a horror all at once to me. To not remember every fall...that crash of memory that hits us...the nightmares we can't quite remember for the rest of the year. Every year."

 

In silence they walked inside the sheriff's office and greeted Bronn. The sheriff has been sober fifteen years now and has come to terms with his own monsters. Since he rose to sheriff, he has learned of the town's monsters and how they are dealt with. Tonight wasn't a good night, Bronn has been uneasy since the beginning of fall and so has the town. Now this and for Bronn it confirmed bad things coming this fall.

"Thank you for coming in, Cat, Roose. I received a phone call from the asylum. Hot Pie and Arya have escaped. They have been missing for two days. Should we prepare for visitors? Do you think they are coming home?"

Both Cat and Roose were ramrod straight in their chairs, eyes staring through Bronn and then they slowly looked at each other. Bronn hated when they got weird during the fall and he wished for a drink. He reached for a can of soda and a cookie instead. "Nope. I don't want your crazy magic fall shit in my police station. We have discussed this every fucking season. Out. Out. I just wanted to know if I should worry and I have my answer. Leave. Please..."

They rose and did just that, knowing it was time to be out of the public eye. But as they left, Cat said one last thing. "It means my children are coming home."

 

It was a war, a slaughter.

Euron's pirate ship had parted the silver fog and he had laughed heartily upon the sight before him. A ship larger than his own, a red haired savage pirate captain saluting him with a cutlass. Then he heard the word roar from her mouth, "FIRE!" As half his ships tore apart around him, he laughed and urged his vampire children to engage in the fight.

Theon's pack of wolves were full of need, to kill, to hunt, to eat and they ran through the woods, having traveled for months in secret to get to this town. They were heading for the town itself, barreling through the trees towards the clearing. Just past it will be the town and so many pink fleshed screaming they were howling in anticipation.

Except the clearing was now a barricade full of deadly silver tipped arrows, silver bullets and silver machetes swung or thrown with precision. Fleeing wasn't an option either. Traps had been set everywhere. Gregor, Sandor and Unella were never so coordinated as they were this night.

 

Cat Stark had arranged a small costume ball and Lady Stoneheart attended.

In the lobby, before the doors to the ballroom, she was posted. She insisted everyone needed a bit more make up somewhere upon them. An hour later an army of elegant clowns were patrolling their town. Any of them that were hunters, which were a good amount in this town, they were sent to the woods to assist at the barricade.   

 

A tall thin man wearing a funeral director suit and a face that was a painted to look like a skeleton walked into the town youth detention center.

Most fall seasons a few of the rotten apples or unfortunates stuck in Roose Bolton's youth detention center would get picked for clowns. This fall was different. The terrifying apparition gave some paint to every boy and girl. To the guards as well. Some rushed towards the wharf and others headed for the patrols around town. 

 

Bran Stark abandoned his name years ago. He was known as the Night King now and it seemed to suit him quite well. His black eyes, blue lips and gray skin resemble nothing human any longer. Even his brown hair was gone as were the eyebrows, no hint of hair upon him. He had docked an island away then walked his army through old tunnels, through sewers and swamps.

He walked his army forward through an old junkyard that led into the town from a section no one even noticed anymore. Just to find a barricade of armed clowns led by two young monster hunters.

A husky teenager smiled cheerfully and waved happily at them all as he pumped his sawed off shot gun. "Hey there! I'm Sam Clegane. We are the welcome committee."

A young tall and muscular teenage girl with black eyes came forward to look directly at the Night King. "I want you to know my name since I plan to be the one to kill you, Night King. I'm the daughter of Unella and Gregor Clegane. I'm a new breed of monster hunter. My name is Nissa."

 

Arya and Hot Pie stood on the roof of city hall grinning down at the chaos. Howling and gunshots can be heard in the distance. They can see huge explosions coming from the foggy wharf. Screaming and burning, a shadowy glimpse of huge ships engaged in battle. Pirates and vampires fought in the sands, on the dock and into the streets below them. Another direction, another turn of the head and zombies fought clowns There was an epic fight going on between a monster hunter and some bald thin freakish zombie.

With a small giggle, Arya said to her friend, "It's good to be home for Halloween."


End file.
